


The Sum of all knowledge (doesn’t mean bupkus when it comes to love)

by QueenofSchmoop



Category: Starter for 10 (2006)
Genre: 1980s, Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Barebacking, Bisexual Male Character, Drunken Confessions, Endearments, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, First Time, Food Sex, Living Together, Love Confessions, M/M, Oral Sex, Schmoop, Slow Burn, Virginity, brief mention canon character death, set post-film
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-17
Updated: 2018-03-16
Packaged: 2019-04-01 08:50:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 41,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13994754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenofSchmoop/pseuds/QueenofSchmoop
Summary: What if things had gone a little differently after Brian was caught cheating?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Since Patrick isn’t given much of a back-story in the film, I’ve written my own for him. As far as I can tell there is no reference to Patrick's backstory in canon.

Brian went back to his classes, friends with Rebecca and only that. She had rebuffed his romantic feelings and he had since come to realize that he had not really liked her like that. Yes, he was quite fond of her but they were better as friends. Romance would just make things worse. In fact, Brian thought, perhaps it was better to keep everyone to friends. Though he sometimes wondered about even that, given what his so called friends had done. 

He buckled down and worked hard, studying nearly all the time now. He almost never went out, almost never saw anyone. His roommates began to make fun of him, Rebecca looked at him a bit pityingly. But this was safer. Plus, after making a hash of it before, he could not afford to lose his place here. So, despite his loneliness, he kept his head down. 

Brian also made sure not to interact with his former Challenge members. Alice was easy. Aside from club they had never really seen each other anyway. The other two, he barely saw. As for Patrick, he had run into him in the dining hall once. At the look of utter disdain, Brian had run, dumping his food in the garbage as he went. 

“You know this isn’t healthy.”

He looked over at Rebecca, who was sitting in the chair, going over her Women’s Studies homework. “I know.”

“Locking yourself away, studying all the time, only seeing me--”

“I know!” He lowered his voice. “But this is the way things are. I messed up. This is the price. I’ll keep my nose clean, work hard and get out of here.”

“And then what?” She sounded honestly curious. 

He stopped. He had not wondered what would come next. “I don’t know,” he admitted. 

“Pretty much any job you get will require you working with people,” she pointed out. 

“Yes, but none of them will know me. And hopefully will never know what I did.”

“You looked at some questions,” Rebecca protested. “You didn’t kill someone.”

“Patrick seemed to think this was worse. As did the others.” He put his head back down. Hearing her sigh, he kept it down. They kept working, until she finally got up and left. He tossed his book aside and lay down on his bed. 

Valentine’s Day came and went. It was torture, seeing all the couples in love. He buckled down even harder, scoring his first ever perfect on a paper. He should have been elated. Why then, did he feel so empty? He was sitting on the steps when a gust of wind took the paper and blew it out of his hands. He ran after it. It swirled and ended up flush against someone’s leg. Bending, he reached down to grab it. As he did so, he looked up. 

“I’m so sor--” Brian stopped. 

“Indeed,” Patrick Watts said, a sneer in his voice. “Littering, are we?”

“No,” he protested immediately. “It blew out of my hand.”

“I see.” Patrick straightened his shirt collar and then ran a hand over his hair. He reached out and snatched the paper back from Brian’s hand. “Oh, look at this!” Patrick cried. “A perfect score. Did you cheat to get this one too?”

Brian stared at him. Some part of him was telling him to yell, to scream, to punch Patrick in the face. Or head butt him again. Instead, to his horror, he felt his eyes welling with tears. He took a deep breath. He would not cry in front of Patrick. “Give it back.”

“Perhaps I should show this to your professor,” Patrick taunted. “Or take it to Alice for a good laugh.”

He felt all his bluster leave him. His shoulders sagged, head falling a bit. Without a word, he turned and walked away. He didn’t look back. He made his way back to his dorm room, ignoring his roommates, who were dressed for some sort of crazy party. Brian went to his room and fell down on his bed. He didn’t cry. He just lay there is a sort of miserable puddle, contemplating leaving University. But he was finally achieving something. He would just have to keep away from people--especially Patrick or anyone else from the club. 

He was just thinking about getting up and getting something to eat when there was a knock on his door. “Go away.”

“I’m afraid I can’t as I have something of yours that needs returning.”

Brian stared at his closed door for a long moment then got up. Sure enough, when he opened it he found Patrick on the other side. He was holding out Brian’s paper. 

“Well?” Patrick huffed a little. “Take it.”

“I don’t want it.” He started to shut the door.

“Oh for goodness sake!” Patrick jammed his foot in the door to keep it from closing. “Ow! Bugger. Look, just take it!”

“Why? I thought you said I cheated.”

Patrick actually looked chagrined. “I…well, I just…I’m sorry. I was angry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

He shrugged. “Maybe I did.”

The other man looked back. “Did you?”

“No.”

“You did really well, then.” Patrick actually looked impressed. “I took a glance at this on the way over. Some really strong points.”

Brian blinked. “Yeah?”

“Yes.” A small smile. “Will you take it now?”

“I suppose.” He opened the door all the way again and took the paper. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Patrick shifted on his feet. “Well, I should go.”

“Right. Thanks. Again.” Brian waved the paper a little. 

“You’re welcome. Again. Okay, bye.”

Brian watched Patrick walk away, then went back to his bed, looking down at his paper. He realized he was smiling. That was when footsteps sounded again. He looked up to see Patrick peeking through the door. “Yes?”

“Er, I can’t seem to open your front door. Is there some trick to it?”

“What? No.” He got up and followed the post grad out. He looked down at the doorknob, which seemed perfectly normal to him. He tried it. No go. He tried harder. He looked at Patrick. “Hold on to me, then we’ll both pull together.” He felt hands on his waist that gripped tight. He tugged. They both went backwards, landing hard on the floor. “Shit!” He scrambled up and off Patrick. “I’m so sorry! God, did I hurt you again?”

“No, I’m fine.” Patrick was sitting up. “But what is wrong with that door?”

“I suspect my roommates are playing some sort of trick on me.” He got up and walked around. They were nowhere to be seen. “For all I know, they glued the damn thing shut.”

Patrick scoffed. “Childish. Do you have a screwdriver?”

He blinked. “Yes, I think so.”

“Fetch it, please.” 

Brian did so and then watched as Patrick went to work on the door. He quickly unhinged it and swung it open from the other side. “Well, it seems your guess was correct. They did glue the door shut.”

“They didn’t reckon on you and your skills, though.” Brian was grinning. Then it faded. “I’m sorry you got caught in their trick.”

“Nonsense. You never would have been able to get out without me.” He handed the screwdriver back. “Least I could do after…earlier.”

Brian suddenly smiled. “Thanks.” He paused. “I’m sorry for head butting you.”

Patrick looked startled. “Oh. Well, thank you. I’m sorry I said such terrible things.”

“I’m sorry Spencer knocked you out, too.”

The other man shrugged. “That’s what I get for going to parties, I suppose.”

“Don’t you, usually?” Brian was curious. He had been surprised to see Patrick at the party that night. 

“No. Not usually.”

“You were there because Alice was, weren’t you?”

Patrick turned pink. “You should be able to repair the door at any time,” he said in a distinct voice. “I’ll see you around, Mr. Jackson.”

Not pushing his luck, Brian nodded. “I’ll see you around, Mr. Watts.” He watched the man walk away. Oddly, he felt a lot better. When his roommates got back and saw the door they questioned him, all agog, but he didn’t say anything. 

All the rest of the day, he felt better than he had in a while. The next day, after school, he headed over to Patrick’s apartment. He was a bit trepidatious as he knocked but did it anyway. The door opened. 

“Brian. What a surprise!” 

“Hi. Sorry, am I interrupting anything?” He tried to peek around. 

“No. No, just doing some work for school.” An awkward pause. “Would you like to come in?”

“Actually, I wondered if you’d like to come to dinner with me?”

The older man’s eyes went wide. “What? Why?”

“I feel I owe you for fixing that door. I can’t cook for anything so I figured I’d buy you dinner. Everyone’s got to eat, yeah?”

“That’s very nice, Brian, but not necessary. Besides, I already have plans for dinner.”

Knowing a turn down when he heard it, Brian shrugged again. “Right. Sorry. I’ll just go then.” He began to turn away. 

“Perhaps you’d like to join me?”

Both Brian and, he could tell, Patrick looked surprised at the invitation. “Um, I had planned on buying dinner to pay you back,” he reminded the man. 

“Well, I’ve already started the sauce so perhaps you can pay next time.” 

They both stopped then Brian smiled. “Yeah?”

Patrick opened the door wider and stood aside. “Please, come in. Shoes off,” he reminded but Brian was already removing them. 

He followed Patrick in, the place looking exactly as it had the last time he was here. Even the picture from the quiz show was on top of the TV. He quickly cut his eyes away from it. 

“Supper won’t be for a few minutes,” Patrick said, gesturing to the sofa. “Would you like something to drink?”

“Sure.”

“Alcoholic or non?” 

“Non’s fine. I’m trying to cut back on my drinking.”

Patrick made a noise of obvious approval. “I have water. Or perhaps club soda?”

“Either’s good.” Brian waved a hand as he sat down. He looked around and for a minute was swamped by memories. He pushed them aside, then turned to watch Patrick in the tiny kitchenette. One arm draped on the back of the sofa, he watched. The silence became a little uncomfortable. “Did you know that Sir Arthur Conan Doyle hated that he was most famous for writing the Sherlock Holmes stories?”

“I did.” Patrick glanced backwards at him. “Sir Arthur wrote over 30 other stories and non-fiction pieces. Yet, he is known best for the Great Detective. Something he most certainly did not want.”

Brian smiled. That started them off. They talked about Literature, then moved on to history. Patrick had gotten him the club soda and he took it with him to the table once the food was ready. They sat and discussed many subjects as they ate. Brian was surprised to discover that, once he relaxed a little, Patrick was a very interesting conversationalist. 

“I’m afraid I don’t really have anything for dessert.” The older man stood and was clearing the plates. “I do have some fruit, if you’d care for some?”

“No, that’s okay. Can I help with the washing up?”

“Oh, you don’t have to. You’re my guest.”

“Who invited himself,” Brian pointed out, smiling. He rolled up his sleeves. “You wash, I dry?”

Patrick smiled. It made him look much younger and much nicer, Brian thought. “Sounds fair.” They went to work, still talking as they finished the crockery. They cleaned up and went to sit. Brian on the sofa, Patrick in his usual chair. They talked until night fell. Then Brian yawned. 

“Sorry. I don’t mean to say this is boring.”

“It’s all right. It is getting rather late.”

“And I’ve stayed far longer than I intended.” He smiled a bit ruefully. “Thank you for supper.”

“You’re welcome.” Patrick walked him to the door, opening it as Brian put his shoes back on. 

“Um,” he lingered a bit, “I still owe you that meal. This time next week?” 

A long pause then, “that sounds quite nice.”

Brian, astonished, looked up to see Patrick smiling a little uncertainly. He nodded. “Great. I’ll come by to get you?”

Patrick nodded. 

He walked out and into the hall. “This was fun,” he admitted. 

“It was, wasn’t it?” Patrick sounded as flabbergasted as Brian. “Good night, Brian.”

“Good night, Patrick.” With a nod, he turned and walked away, hearing the door close behind him. He didn’t realize he was smiling the whole way home. 

The next week came and he kept his promise. After some brief discussion, he and Patrick went out to a nearby Chinese restaurant. The food was quite good but the place was very busy with university students and they had trouble having a conversation. They decided that they would simply order takeaway or make their own meals from then on. Just like that, it became a regular thing. Brian would come over to Patrick’s flat on Friday nights and they would either order in or Patrick would cook. It usually depended on how broke Brian was that week. They would drink non-alcoholic beverages and talk about nearly everything under the sun, except themselves. 

Rebecca was startled to find out that Brian was now, apparently, friends with Patrick Watts. “You head butted him,” she reminded him. 

“We’ve gotten past that.” They were standing in a crowd, listening to a speaker go on about poverty in the UK. 

“It’s weird.”

He shrugged. Maybe it was, but he enjoyed those Friday nights with Patrick. 

“So, when’s the wedding?”

“What? What wedding?”

“You and he have been dating for almost a month now.” She broke into laughter. 

“It’s not like that!” 

“Oh c’mon. I’m just kidding. Though he does seem a bit--”

“I thought you weren’t the type to judge on appearances,” he said, a bit crossly. 

She was suitably chastised. “Right. Sorry.”

But the more Brian thought of it, he realized that he’d never heard Patrick talk about girls. Granted, they didn’t really talk about their personal lives. And there had been a seeming attraction to Alice--on both their parts. Then again, he told himself, he would rather spend Friday nights talking about things like Obscure Russian poetry with his friend rather than go out and pull girls. The next night was, in fact, Friday. 

They sat down to takeaway pizza, napkins in a pile nearby lest someone spill. About halfway through, Brian put his piece down. “Patrick, are we friends?”

About to take his own bite--using a fork and knife, of course--Patrick stopped. “What?”

“Do you think we’re friends?” Brian asked again. 

Setting his fork down, Patrick looked at him. “Yes,” he said after a moment. “I think we are. Why? Don’t you?”

“No, I do. I just…wanted to see if you thought so too.”

“Good. Now, as I was saying about the total failure of His Majesty’s Navy in the battle of--”

Brian didn’t hear most of the rest of that, he was too busy being happy. Then he wondered why he was. After all, he and Patrick had never been great friends before. And he had Spencer and Rebecca and his other friends. So why? He pushed that thought aside and waited for Patrick to make his point. He nodded in the right places. When supper was eaten, the leftovers tucked away, they got up. Pizza was eaten on paper plates and so there was very little clean up. They adjourned to their usual seats. 

“May I ask you something?” Brian inquired once they were settled. 

“Of course.”

“It’s, um, personal.”

Patrick seemed to brace himself, running his hand over his hair, a sure sign he was nervous. “Very well. What would you like to know?”

“I don’t know, exactly. I guess I just want to know about you. Personally, I mean.”

“That’s a bit of a blanket request.”

“Well, I guess, tell me about your family.”

Patrick made a face. 

“Or not.”

“Sorry, it’s just, my family and I don’t exactly get on.”

“Oh?” This was exactly the sort of thing he wanted to know.

“No.”

“If you don’t want to talk about it--”

“It’s all right. I suppose, as we are friends, we should share personal things like this.” Patrick looked down at the hands in his lap, then back up. “My parents are both still married to each other. My father is an executive in a major corporation. My mother is a home maker. She’s active in many charities and has many clubs she is a part of.”

It sounded rote, Brian thought. Something he’d said before, many times, in fact. “Were you raised by a nanny?” He joked then immediately apologized. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”

“It’s fine. No, no nanny. No siblings either. My father was a very busy man, I didn’t see much of him growing up. Still don’t,” he added softly. 

“And your mum?”

“We correspond.” 

Brian frowned. “She must be proud of your accomplishments.”

“I suppose,” Patrick said, a bit uncertainly. “We don’t really….talk, in my family.”

Brian began to get the picture. He felt pity. At least his mother had cared. And Des too, in his own way. “What do you do during summer break?” He asked, though, curious. 

“I went home my first year.” 

For a long moment Brian didn’t think Patrick was going to go on. He squirmed a little on the couch. 

“My parents gave me a small stipend, the next semester, to pay for this flat. I spend my summers here, mostly, now. Though two years ago, I did go with my parents to Majorca.” 

“Hmmm.” Brian drew his knees up to his chin. 

“What about your family? Fair’s fair.”

Brian blinked out of his thoughts. “Oh. Well, there’s my mum. She’s great. Very supportive. She was--” He stopped. 

“What?”

“At the tourney,” he added softly. 

“Ah. That woman with the banner?”

“Yeah. And Des. That’s her new boyfriend,” he made a face. 

“What about your father?”

“He’s dead. 10 years now.”

Patrick’s face crumpled. “I’m sorry.”

It came blurting out of him. “That coat I wore? It was my Dad’s. It was one of the few mementos of his I had left. When you--”

Patrick looked stricken now. “I’m sorry!” He spoke over Brian. “I didn’t know.”

Suddenly Brian’s anger over it all went away. He felt himself near tears. “I just wish my Dad had been able to see me on telly. Then, when the bad stuff happened, all I could think was ‘thank God he’s not seeing this’, you know?” The tears started and he curled in more, face turned away. He started when, a few moments later, a hand touched his shoulder. Hesitant but there. He turned wet eyes and saw Patrick leaning over him, obviously unsure but wanting to give comfort. He swiped at his eyes, but they kept coming. 

“There, there,” Patrick said and sank down on the couch. 

Without thinking, Brian moved, wrapping his arms around that surprisingly muscular chest. He sobbed for what felt like hours, hearing murmurs above him that barely registered. When he was at last done, he pulled back, ashamed. “I’m sorry.” He looked up, eyes still blurry. 

Patrick Watts looked, for lack of a better word, happy? Pleased, perhaps. He patted Brian’s shoulder. “I think you needed to let go, open up those emotions.”

“You sound like a headshrinker.”

A scoff. “No, they would say other things.” 

Puzzling over that, Brian saw that the jumper Patrick was wearing was wet. “I’m so sorry! I’ll buy you a new one!” He looked around for something to clean it off with. 

Looking down in confusion, Patrick’s eyes went wide. Then he made a face. “Time I got some new ones, anyway.” 

“I’m still--”

“Say you’re sorry one more time and I’ll--” Patrick cut himself off, then grinned. “I’ll read you some of the worst poetry in the whole world.”

Brian burst out laughing. “That’s what you’re threatening with? Now I’m intrigued. What’s the worst poetry in the world?”

“Oh trust me, you don’t want to know.” Standing, Patrick held out his hand. “I think we both need to get cleaned up.” They did, taking turns in the tiny bathroom, immaculately kept of course. Then they settled back down on the couch. 

Brian yawned, suddenly very tired. 

“Would you like to lie down for a short while?”

“I shouldn’t, really,” he protested. 

“Nonsense. I can hardly send you back out if you’re so tired you might walk into traffic.”

Brian smiled. “True.” He started to sit back against the cushions, wiggling a little. It was hardly comfortable. 

“Here.” Patrick scooted to the end of the sofa. “Put your head in my lap.”

They both went still. Brian looked at him. They just stared at each other for a while, then Brian slowly stretched out. He settled his head down, tense. A hand came up and rubbed at his back and he couldn’t help the pleased noise that escaped him. He loosened up and sighed. “Thank you,” he whispered. 

“Sleep now.”


	2. Chapter 2

He must have because the next thing he knew he was waking up to near total darkness. Brian sat up, wincing at a crick and looked up. Patrick was also asleep, head back against the couch. He looked so peaceful like that, he almost didn’t have the heart to wake him. Still, he reached out a hand and shook him gently. “Patrick?”

“The American Declaration of Independence was signed in 1776!” The man nearly shouted as he woke. 

“Patrick, hey.” He pulled his hands back, not touching. 

“Oh. Brian. I must have also fallen asleep.”

“Yeah. Sorry.”

“For my falling asleep?” Patrick asked, amused. 

“For me.” He looked around then spotted a clock. “Damn, it’s after midnight. The dorms will be closed.”

“You could sleep here. You might as well, now.”

“I couldn’t impose.”

“It’s not an imposition. It would be more of one to have to get up and see you out at this late time.”

Brian smiled. “All right. I’ll just…,” he gestured to the couch. 

“Right. I can get you a blanket and a pillow.”

“Thanks,” he said, grateful. Though he sort of wished he could still sleep in Patrick’s lap. It had been surprisingly comfortable. He shook his head as the other man walked out then back in, carrying a fluffy blanket and a large pillow. “Thanks,” he repeated as he took them. 

“Not a problem. My bedroom is back there,” he gestured. “You know where the bathroom is.”

“Yes.”

“If you chose to leave before I arise, that’s all right.” Patrick sounded very timid.

“What, you’re not going to make breakfast?” Brian quipped. 

“I am rather good at making omelets, actually.” 

“I was kidding, Patrick. I’m not going to make you cook breakfast for me.”

“Ah. I see. Well, in either case, pleasant dreams.”

“You, as well,” Brian returned the good wishes then watched him walk away, glancing back over one shoulder as he left the room. He settled down but now felt wide awake. Still, at some point he must have fallen back asleep because when he opened his eyes again it was morning. Sunshine was coming in through the half open curtains. He blinked hard a few times and then sat up, running his hands through his hair. He glanced down at his watch and noticed it was 7:30 AM. He stood and wandered to the bathroom, using the facilities. He paused briefly by the closed door to Patrick’s bedroom, then made his way to the kitchen. 

“Good morning,” he greeted Patrick when the man stepped into the kitchen. “I figured since I took your couch I could make breakfast. I’m not very good at omelets or eggs but I can cook bacon and make toast. Which I’ve done.” He slid bacon onto a plate. He looked over. “This all right?”

“Yes. Yes, this looks wonderful.” Patrick walked over to the cupboard and pulled out some jam, setting it down. They took their seats at the table and ate, mostly in silence, as they were both still waking up. 

When the food was done, Brian offered to help with the dishes but Patrick told him no. That he waited until all the days dishes were in the sink, then did them all together. It was more efficient than doing the dishes multiple times a day, he said. Brian agreed. He headed for the door. 

“Well, thanks. And I’m sorry about your jumper.”

“It’s all right. Thank you for breakfast.”

“It was your food,” he pointed out, playfully. “I should be thanking you!” They stood there, awkwardly smiling at each other, until Brian waved a little and said, “cheers.” He turned and walked away. Since it was Saturday, he didn’t have class. He had spent the last few weekends studying, anyway. Now he decided it would be fine to take a day off. He ended up going out and wandering around, doing some window shopping and even stopping to buy himself some ice cream. He made his way back to his dorm to discover his roommates were once again throwing a raucous party. He sighed a little and went to his room but the beat of the music was too loud to really do anything. He fled, taking a book to the quad and sitting on the steps to read under the lights. 

“What are you doing out here?” A voice cut through his reading. He looked up.

“Patrick!” He scrambled up. “Oh. Um. Reading.” He held up the book. 

“I can see that.” It was almost ‘old’ Patrick, snippy and snobbish. “Why? You have perfectly a serviceable room, yes?”

“With horrible roommates,” he added. “They’re throwing yet another party.”

“I see.” Patrick was holding a bag. It fell to his wrist as he put his hands on his hips. “You’re welcome to stay at mine.”

Brian was shocked. “What?”

“Well, it worked all right last night,” Patrick said, turning a little pink. 

“Yeah. It did. Are you sure?”

“I wouldn’t have invited you if I wasn’t.” 

Brian smiled. “All right. Um, let me run back quick and grab a few things.”

“Of course. I’ll meet you there.” Patrick turned and walked off. 

Brian stared after him briefly then got up and ran back to his, stuffing a few things into a bag then hoisting it over his shoulder. He managed to avoid all the people as he snuck back out and back to Patrick’s. Who answered the door before he’d barely knocked. 

“Come on in.”

“Thanks again for this.”

“Not at all. Well, I’ve made up the couch for you again. Will that be all right?”

“That’s fine, thank you.” They went into the living room, standing awkwardly. “Really, I appreciate this, Patrick.”

“Brian. Please stop thanking me.”

“All right.” He glanced at the clock. Much too early to go to bed. “Uh, what would you be doing if I weren’t here?”

“Either working on my paper or reading, I suppose.”

He nodded. Pulling his book out again, he settled on the couch. “Sounds good.” 

Patrick looked at him then went over to the little desk, where the typewriter was, and sat down. “The typing won’t bother you?”

“Not at all.” And it wouldn’t. After living with two party animals for this long, such a small noise--he was sure--would barely register. Sure enough, after a short time he didn’t even hear the clacks of the keys anymore. After a while, he realized he was getting tired and set his book aside. He glanced up to see Patrick pulling back from the desk, stretching. Brian couldn’t help but notice that the man had strong shoulders and long arms. 

“It’s off to bed with me, I think. You remember where everything is?”

“Yes.” He opened his mouth to say thank you again and shut it at Patrick’s glare. 

“I tend to rise late on Sundays. My one day for sleeping in.” He sounded almost embarrassed. 

“That’s fine. I promise to be quiet before I leave.”

“You’re welcome to stay for a late breakfast. I never did get to fix you that omelet.” Patrick sounded hopeful.

“If you’re sure?”

He nodded. 

“All right.” They stood there for a moment then Patrick nodded and walked away. Brian waited until he heard him exit the bathroom then went in to use it himself. He climbed onto the couch, nestling down against it. Once again he found himself thinking it had been more comfy in Patrick’s lap. His eyes narrowed as he realized what he was thinking. Sleep, Jackson, he told himself and drifted off. 

Once again, when he awoke, the sun was bright. But higher than it had been the morning before. He opened one eye to look at the clock and jumped up. 10AM! He scrambled around. “Shit, shit, shit!” 

“Such language on a Sunday, Mr. Jackson,” a voice tutted behind him. “Luckily, I am not easily offended.”

He turned to see a fully dressed--though only in a button down shirt, no jumper--Patrick at the stove. “What?”

“The swears.” He sighed. “Never mind. This is almost ready.” He gestured. “Off with you.”

“What?” He shook his head. “Oh. Right.” He started to pack up his stuff. “I’ll be out of your hair--”

“I meant, off to the lav with you. To wash up before breakfast?” Patrick frowned. “You must still be half asleep.”

“Yes. Sorry, I think I am.” He wasn’t being asked to leave? He headed quickly to the bathroom and splashed water over his face, amongst other things. He came back out to see Patrick setting plates and pouring a glass of juice. 

“I did not know if you prefer milk or juice for breakfast. Yesterday you had milk but I didn’t want to presume.”

“Milk is fine.” He sat down and took a sip. He looked down at the omelet. “This looks great.”

“Thank you. One thing I pride myself on--culinary speaking--is my omelet. I can also make pasta, as you know, and I am surprisingly good with cupcakes.”

“Really?” Brian stopped eating in surprise. “With frosting?”

“My frosting, I fear, is a bit lacking. I usually buy the premade kind. But my cupcakes can be quite tasty, or so I am told.”

“I’ll have to try them sometime.”

Patrick smiled, happy. “I’ll be sure to make some soon.” 

They ate, chatting about this and that. When Patrick had finished his meal, he dabbed at his mouth with the napkin. Setting it aside, he folded his hands and leaned forward. “There’s something I would like to discuss with you, Brian.”

“Shoot.” He was still finishing his omelet, savoring the last few bites. 

“The end of semester is coming, as you know. Summer break will be upon us soon.”

“Mmm.” He pushed the last forkful of the omelet in his mouth. 

“Do you have any particular plans for the summer, Brian?”

“No. Just home, I suppose. Though after Christmas holidays, I’m not really looking forward to that. Or Des.” He made a face. 

“I was wondering if you’d like to stay here.”

“What, at college? My dorm housing will have expired and I can’t afford a place of my own.”

“I meant,” Patrick said primly, “here.” He gestured around. 

“Here?” Brian pointed down. 

“Well, you don’t have to sleep on the table, if that’s what you mean.” 

He smiled. “Funny. Really? You’d want me to stay with you this summer?”

“I’d invite you home but--”

“You don’t go home. I remember.”

“No. No, I don’t. I usually take a spare summer course. Or spend my summer soaking in the culture of the area. It can be,” he paused briefly, “a bit lonely, I admit. As we are friends now,” here Patrick smiled, “I thought you might like to stay. As you mentioned, you’re not particularly keen to go home, after all.”

He nodded. “True. But…” He stopped.

“What? Do you think we’ll drive each other mad before the end of summer?”

“That’s part of it. Mostly, I would just feel like I was taking advantage if I stayed here all summer. I mean, I don’t have any money to pay rent or for food or anything.” He perked up. “I could get a job! For the summer. Pay my half.”

“If you think it’s necessary. Though it really isn’t. I feel you’d be paying me back with your company.” Patrick unlaced his hands and put them in his lap. 

“I would just feel better if I did contribute. Less of a freeloader.”

“Very well. Perhaps you could find some part time work around here?”

Brian nodded. “I’ll look into it. I will have to go home for a little while or my mother will raise hell.”

“Of course. The first week or two after break?”

They agreed and hammered out the details. Brian packed his things up and headed back to his dorm. The place was a mess and he was suddenly very glad that he had decided to spend the summer with Patrick. In fact, he half wished he could move in now. Pushing that thought aside, he went to his room. It wasn’t until Tuesday that he ran into Rebecca. 

“Hi!” He greeted her as she sat in the cafeteria eating what looked like yogurt. 

“Hello Brian. You look happier. Things going well?”

It came pouring out of him. “So I haven’t really had a chance to look for any work yet but I hope to find something.”

“And you think this is a good idea? Living at Patrick’s for the summer?”

“Why not?”

“You were enemies a few months ago! What if living together makes you that way again? Not to mention what he’s like.”

“He’s not that bad. And we’re friends now. Like you said.”

“I hope you won’t regret it.”

He changed the subject, though he did wonder if she was right. Still, things had been going well. Yes, a part of his brain said, but you thought that about Alice. He pushed that aside and kept talking. Spring started turning to summer. He spent more and more time over at Patrick’s, staying the night sometimes, others going back to his dorm. A few of his things migrated over. He learned never to wake Patrick before 6AM, as the man was a total bear before that. He also learned that Patrick had a particular fondness for certain foods. He would go out of his way to find some and present them to him, to see that smile. Brian found himself able to study better as well, as the clack of Patrick’s typewriter went in the background. Sometimes they would listen to music. Light jazz or classical, never rock when studying. 

He, in turn, introduced Patrick to certain bands and to some of his favorite writers. He also got him into some American telly. Though Patrick did not understand how a car could talk. They tried some exotics foods--both not liking Thai much but they did try it. 

“Sounds like you’re in a very happy place in your relationship,” Rebecca remarked on their way to finals. 

“Hmmm.” He stopped. “Wait, what?”

“You’re basically dating him, you know that, right?” She kept walking. 

He caught up. “No I’m not!”

“You’re doing everything but the sex.”

“Exactly. That’s called friendship.”

“Is it? You buy him his favorite things. You have little in jokes. You stay over at his place all the time. Tell me that if you didn’t add kissing to that it wouldn’t be dating.”

He stepped up his pace. “We’re late.” He didn’t have much time to think about what she said in the next week. If he wasn’t taking finals, he was studying for them. As a post grad, Patrick was past all that. To keep from annoying his friend with screams of utter frustration, Brian spent most of that week at his dorm. Luckily his last final was Friday afternoon so after that, he stopped and picked up a celebratory pizza and headed over to Patrick’s. 

“How do you think you did?” The man ushered him in. 

“Pretty good except maybe on one. That one I’ll be lucky I scraped by. The rest I know I passed.”

Patrick nodded. “Good. Then these are appropriate.” He went to the oven, opened it, and pulled out a tray of cupcakes. They each had a letter on the bright yellow frosting that, combined, spelled ‘well done, Brian’. 

Touched, Brian reached out. “You made these for me?”

“Yes. You can have one. They’re quite cool. I made them this morning and put the frosting on earlier.”

Abandoning the pizza, Brian grabbed the ‘B’ one and peeled the wrapper off. He bit into it, getting a big mouthful. After chewing and swallowing he looked up to see Patrick still standing, looking worried. He grinned. “Delicious!”

“Really?” He sounded so happy but unsure as well. 

Shoving the rest into his mouth, he chewed furiously. “Really.” He reached out for another one. He took the ‘w’ this time. He was halfway through it when he realized that Patrick was still standing. “Aren’t you going to have one?”

Patrick sat down, took the ‘n’ cupcake and carefully the paper away. He ate his delicately, wiping his mouth in between bites. 

When Brian finished that second one he was tempted to go for a third but didn’t. Instead, he sat back and said, “that was great. You weren’t kidding about making good cupcakes.”

Beaming, Patrick stood and took the tray over to the counter, wrapping it up and setting it aside. “The rest are for you.”

“I can’t share?”

“If you wish to share them with someone, of course you may. They are yours now.”

“Might let Rebecca have one,” Brian mused. He’d spoken a few times about her to Patrick. 

“Indeed.” 

“But I think I’ll keep the rest for us.” He saw Patrick freeze. 

“Us?” 

“You don’t want any more?” Brian teased. 

Patrick turned around, smiling. “I wouldn’t mind.”

They stayed in those positions for a long moment, just smiling at each other, until a car horn nearby startled them both. They cleared the debris then sat down on the couch. Patrick found an old movie with Greta Garbo on TV and they settled in to watch it. As the movie went on, Brian got more and more sleepy, his eyes closing and his body drooping. When a particularly loud commercial made him jerk awake, he saw Patrick looking at him. Part concern, part amusement on his face. 

“Sorry.” He wiped at his mouth, hoping he hadn’t drooled. 

“I think perhaps you should get some sleep.” He started to get up but Brian pushed him back down. “Brian?”

Without a word, Brian lie down, head in Patrick’s lap. He sighed as he got comfortable. 

“Brian?” The word was quieter but still confused. 

“Shhh. Movie’s back on.” He waited for a moment then felt Patrick relax under him and half closed his eyes. At some point later, he felt the man get up and rearrange him a little, pulling a blanket up and over him. A big hand carded through his hair.

He woke in the morning, checked the clock--7:56AM--and thought about going back to sleep. Instead, he stood, made his way to the bathroom and then shuffled to the kitchen. They took turns making breakfast when he stayed over and since Patrick had made cupcakes last night, he figured it was his turn. He was just setting the jam on the table when Patrick appeared. Once again immaculate. 

“Do you ever rumple?” Brian joked. 

“Only every third Tuesday.”

He stopped. “My God, that was a joke.”

“Yes, it was.”

Grinning, Brian sat down and they had their breakfast. Patrick asked him what he was doing that day. He told him he had to go clear out his dorm room and pack for his trip home tomorrow. They had moved most of the things he would need into the flat already, stored in a corner of Patrick’s bedroom. Which had been an eye opener when Brian had finally seen it. 

“I’ll be back in a week. Two at the most. Depending.”

“Of course. Have a good holiday and say hello to your mother for me,” Patrick said at the door as Brian was about to leave, cupcakes in hand. “Don’t eat all of those at once.”

“Yes, mummy,” Brian joked but smiled to take the sting out. 

“I’ll see you soon?”

They were both reluctant to part. “So soon you may wish I’d stayed away longer.”

“No.” It was all Patrick said. 

Brian finally threw his bag over his shoulder and turned, walking down the steps. He looked up at the bottom but couldn’t see the door. He made his way back to the dorm, eating a cupcake on the way. He thought about eating them all, mostly because he didn’t want to have to share them with his jerk roommates, but he didn’t. He felt proud of himself for that. Plus, he had intended to give one to Rebecca. They were meeting for a drink later, to celebrate. 

Luckily, both his roommates seemed to have celebrated the night before as well, passed out drunk in drag. One was made up like Marilyn Monroe, the other like Jean Harlow. Or possibly Mae West? He shrugged and took the cupcakes to his room. Brian took great joy in either ripping up or burning most of his notes for finals. Then he took a brief nap. 

“Have a cupcake,” he said as he set it down on the bar beside Rebecca. 

She looked at it then gingerly took it. “What is this?”

“It’s a shark, cleverly disguised as a cupcake. What do you think it is?”

“Funny. You bought cupcakes?”

“No. Patrick made them.”

She’d just bitten into it and now stopped. Pulling her mouth free, she looked at him. “Patrick. Made these. Cupcakes.”

“Yes. He. Did.” He aped her speech. “Good, eh?”

Her brow furrowed and then she shrugged. Taking a big bite, her expression changed to delight. “Mmmmm!” 

“I know. Though the frosting’s from a can.”

She finished it off quickly. “Got more?”

“A few. But they’re for me, greedy. For getting through finals.”

“And the ‘e’?”

He explained. They laughed and drank and talked. Then she had to go. She was heading home to her non-traditional family, he to his mother’s the next day. They hugged as they parted, promising to write or call over the summer. He went back to the dorm to find that both his roommates had already cleared out. And apparently taken all the food with them. He went back out, found a vending machine and bought some snacks then finished off the cupcakes. Then he played his music as loud as he wanted, dancing around. Finally, he fell asleep. 

The next morning, he cleaned up the dorm room, having been left with that by his gracious ‘friends’. He packed up and went to board the train, some part of him hoping Patrick would come to see him off. Then he reminded himself that they were simply friends and would see each other soon in any case. His train came and he lingered a bit then got on, chiding himself. It was only as he was settling down that he noticed a note poking out of his suitcase. He pulled it free. 

_Fingers on buzzers_ was all it said but it made a huge grin break out on his face. He was still smiling when he got off the train, and walked to his mother’s house.


	3. Chapter 3

“Brian!” She greeted him at the door with a big hug and a kiss. “How are you?”

“I’m good, mum.” It was the truth, for once. 

She seemed to understand that. Taking a moment to scrutinize him, she smiled. “It seems so. I’m glad. Now, come, Des is watching telly so we’ll chat in the kitchen.”

He went to dump his stuff in his old room, marveling at how things had changed since he was last here. Had it only been a few months ago? He shook his head and went out to talk to his mother. 

The days went by with agonizing slowness. Spencer seemed to have made himself scarce after the farce with Alice. His other old friends also were too busy to hang out with him. He felt isolated and alone. He went for long walks and even stopped in and visited his father’s grave a few times. He yearned to get back to school, back to Patrick. 

That made him stop. When had Patrick become so important to him? He realized he talked about the man a lot when his mother mentioned how much he brought up the name. She even teased him about ‘having a boyfriend’, which reminded him of what she had said last Christmas about how she thought he was going to tell her he was gay. He flushed as he remembered his head in Patrick’s lap. 

No, that was silly. They were just friends. He was attracted to women. Alice and other disasters notwithstanding. Plus, Patrick wasn’t….that. Shaking his thoughts away, Brian went back to his reading. But he was distracted the rest of the day. He thought about staying a few extra days but he just missed things too much. He refused to let himself think that he missed _Patrick_ too much. 

Five days later he was at the train station again, heading back to Bristol. His mother and Des had said goodbye to him at the house. His steps had quickened as he got closer to the station. As he boarded, he chided himself. Perhaps Patrick had changed his mind. Perhaps he’d found a girlfriend to spend all his time with. Perhaps--

He arrived back in town and used some of the money his mother had given him to get a cab back. He found the car letting him out in front of Patrick’s apartment building. He looked up and thought he saw the curtain fluttering. He stared a moment longer then, deciding he’d seen things, he started for the stairs. If there was one thing about Patrick’s that he didn’t like, it was that there was no elevator. He had to work hard to get his luggage up the stairs. About half way up he heard laughter and looked up to the top. 

“Patrick!”

“You look ridiculous.”

Once upon a time that might have stung. Now, it just made him laugh. “You could always come down and help, you prat.”

“And miss the show?” The other man grinned but he was on his way down. Together they brought the luggage up. 

Brian had been planning on depositing it in the corner of Patrick’s bedroom but he stopped as he passed by the living room area. He turned and looked at his flat mate with a questioning stare. 

Patrick looked pleased, smoothing his shirt down as he smiled. “Like it?”

“A new couch? You didn’t have to.” In fact, he rather missed the old one. He knew where all the lumps were on that one. He shoved the thought of resting his head on Patrick’s lap away. 

“This one,” Patrick said, stepping around and beginning to remove cushions, “is special. This one,” he tugged, “turns into a bed!” He grinned and made a ‘tada’ gesture. 

Brian stepped closer and looked at it, then up at Patrick. “A bed? You bought this for me?”

“Yes. I figured that since you are now living here you should have an actual bed to sleep on. However, the space allowed in this apartment is insufficient for a proper bed. I inquired and was told about sofa beds. They are couches that turn into beds. I purchased one, after much research on them,” he added.

Brian nodded. That was a very Patrick thing to do. “You really didn’t have to.”

“Nonsense. This will be far more comfortable. That is, if it is acceptable?” He looked nervous. 

Brian turned to look at him. “It is. Thank you, Patrick. It’s great.”

Looking unbearably pleased, which gave his pale skin a sort of rosy glow, Patrick nodded. “I’m glad you like it. As for your things, I’ve cleared the pre-arranged space.” He led him out and soon Brian was all unpacked. They sat down on the sofa--returned to a sofa--and Patrick asked him how his visit with his mother had gone. 

He began to tell him a lie then changed it to the truth. They talked for a while, then Brian yawned. “Sorry. I’m a bit tired. Didn’t sleep well at my mum’s.”

“You can take a quick nap, if you like.”

“I still haven’t found a job,” he admitted. 

“I told you didn’t have to,” Patrick admonished. 

Brian yawned again. He screwed up his courage and gestured to his flat mate’s lap, silently asking. 

“You have the sofa bed now,” Patrick pointed out, a bit tentatively. 

“I know. Seems silly to pull it out just for a nap, though.” Seeing the other man still waver, he shook his head. “Never mi--” 

Patrick sat back and patted his lap, a small smile on his face. Brian did not hesitate. He immediately curled up, letting out a happy sigh as he did so. 

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Brian drifted off to sleep. When he awoke later it was to his head being gently moved. He sat up, stretching. “What time is it?”

“3:00.”

He’d slept for 2 hours. 

“I would not have moved you but I need to use the facilities rather badly.” His face was flushed as Patrick admitted this. 

Brian apologized and made a ‘go’ gesture. When the other man came back, they resumed their talking that the nap had interrupted. Later, they ordered in supper. Patrick had said he’d thought about cooking but he had been unsure when Brian would arrive. He waved off the apology. They ate and then read in comfortable silence. Patrick helped Brian pull the bed back out and they both got ready for bed. 

“I would like to say something,” Patrick announced suddenly. 

“Go ahead.” Brian was curious. 

“I just wanted to say that I’m glad you’re here. And,” he stopped briefly then rushed on, “I’m glad we’re friends.”

“Me too.” He meant it. He couldn’t stop himself as he stepped across the room and enveloped a protesting Patrick into a hug. After a minute the man in his embrace hugged him back. In fact, it went on a bit longer than both had planned, each reluctant to let go. Finally, Brian coughed and stepped back. 

Patrick also retreated, smoothing his hair down with his hand. “Good night, Brian.”

“Good night, Patrick.”

The next day, after a fine breakfast, Brian set out to find work. Patrick protested that it wasn’t necessary but he still wanted to pay his share. He had a tough time of it, though. Many students were staying for the summer and almost all were looking for work. Or others already had part or even full time jobs. Then there were adults who were working as well. For several days he looked and he was about to give up. But then he overheard some people talking on the street about a job washing dishes at a restaurant. 

“The pay is terrible,” the one man said. 

“The hours are late,” the other one said. 

“Excuse me,” Brian butted in. “Where is this job that you’re talking about?”

They told him and he went to apply. He didn’t have a problem working nights, he explained, though he would need Fridays off. A standing appointment, he said. The pay was fine, it was enough to contribute and even to have a little bit left over. He was hired and told to show up the next Monday evening. Grinning, he headed back, grabbing a few things on the way. 

“Patrick!” He had his own key now, one that his flat mate had very kindly made up for him, and had let himself in. 

“Brian, you gave me a scare!”

“Sorry. But I have great news! I found a job!” He told the whole story, all the while unpacking his goodies. He had spent the last of his petty cash on a fabulous Chinese meal and even gotten a bottle of fizz to go with it. Patrick did not drink alcohol but he kept some on hand for guests who did. He didn’t mind Brian having some, as long as he didn’t get too drunk. They ate, Brian in triumph and Patrick smiling at him. “You must think I’m being silly,” Brian said after he had finished his food. “It’s just a dishwashing job, after all.”

“Finding gainful employment is always something to applaud. I confess,” Patrick moved in closer, “I had wondered if you would be able to find anything.”

“Me too. Have the whole weekend before I’m a working man, though. Whatever shall I do?”

“I suggest sleeping. If you’re going to be working late nights, you’ll need it.”

Brian shook his head in fond exasperation. The weekend passed by quickly. He did get some sleep but also spent time with Patrick. On Monday afternoon, he picked up his keys. “Not sure when I’ll be home.”

“I understand.” 

They stood at the door. “Wish me luck?”

“Good luck, though I know you won’t need it.”

Brian smiled. “What, no kiss?”

Patrick looked startled. 

“Sorry, I was joking. Forget it.” He started to turn to go. 

“Wait.” Patrick grabbed his arm, leaned over and quickly bussed him on the cheek. “There. A kiss for luck, as Princess Leia said.”

Blushing so hard he felt his face would catch fire, Brian put a hand up to where Patrick’s lips had been. “Thanks,” he whispered and fled. He was halfway down the stairs before he realized that he’d forgotten his shoes. He went back up and was tempted, for a moment, to knock on the door to talk to Patrick about this. Instead, he put on his shoes and ran down the steps. 

A man at work named Jimmy showed him the ropes, had him sign some paperwork, then gave him an apron and put him to work. Washing dishes was harder and involved more than Brian had thought--it certainly wasn’t like the washing up at home. But it wasn’t that tough and it gave him time to think. Sometimes other would talk to him but the kitchen was so loud and noisy that it was often hard to hear. Around 1AM he was told to go ahead home. He clocked out, put his apron away, and headed back home. Knowing Patrick must be asleep, he let himself in very quietly. 

And stopped dead as he saw the other man asleep on the couch. He stayed still for almost a full minute, debating what to do. He didn’t want to wake him but he had to in order to turn the couch into a bed. He even contemplated going to sleep in Patrick’s bed but dismissed that out of hand. He put out a hand and shook the nearest shoulder. 

“Patrick?”

Eyes opened immediately. “Brian! Sorry, I must have fallen asleep for a bit there.”

“More than a bit, I reckon,” Brian smiled. “It’s almost 2AM.”

Shocked, Patrick turned to look at the clock. “So it is. They kept you later than I expected.”

“You didn’t have to wait up for me.”

“I…I thought perhaps I should apologize for earlier.”

Brian decided to play dumb. “Earlier?”

“For that kiss.”

So much for playing dumb. Brian shrugged. “I asked for it.”

“But you were clearly joking. I didn’t mean to make things uncomfortable between us.”

“You didn’t. Consider it forgotten. In fact, I can’t even remember what we’ve just been talking about,” he added with a smile. 

Patrick looked at him for a long moment then seemed to sag in resignation. “Very well. Good night, Brian. I look forward to hearing about your first night at work in the morning.”

“It is morning,” he pointed out but waved a hand. “Good night.” He watched the other man go and then carefully pulled the bed out. He went to the bathroom and changed and crawled in, knowing he should be exhausted. But all he could think about was Patrick. How some part of him had been disappointed that he’d let Brian’s decision to forget the kiss stand. Shaking his head, he went to sleep.

Thus began a new normal. Brian would go to work on Monday, Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday nights. He would work until around 1AM and then come home. After that first night, Patrick did not stay up to wait for him. On the mornings that he came home from work, Brian slept very late. Patrick was always quiet and careful not to wake him. On the other mornings, he would wake earlier and have breakfast with Patrick. Every Friday night they still had ’their’ night. The weekends were for relaxing, both together and apart. 

So it went, with no more spoken between them about the kiss, for weeks. On Brian’s first payday, he had cashed his check and handed the whole thing over to Patrick, who tried to give some of it back. Brian had protested and made him take the lot. The next day, he’d woken to find a scrumptious breakfast waiting for him. He smiled the whole time he ate. 

He saw pretty girls sometimes at the restaurant. He even thought about a few of them. But in the end he would rather go home to Patrick. 

He had a phone call from Rebecca one afternoon and several letters from her as well. It was a quiet but comfortable life. So he told his mother in his letters to her, and to Rebecca. He was getting reading done and had even gotten some clothes at a vintage shop to replace some things that had fallen apart. Of course it was nothing like what Patrick wore but he couldn’t afford such things. Even with the job. Sometimes he felt a bit of a slob next to Patrick but since he could not afford such clothes--and figured he’d look a bit silly if he wore them, as well as having promised his friends not to become a wanker--he pushed the thought aside. 

Patrick, it seemed, did not date either. At least, no girls were invited home. When Patrick did go out on his own he didn’t seem to come home with that fresh just-had-sex look. Brian thought, sometimes, about what Patrick would look like all mussed, shirt askew, hair a mess. He would flush with redness at the thought and chalked it up to embarrassment. 

A few of the guys, one summer night, invited him along to go boozing with them. He had turned them down previously but, for some reason, felt compelled to go this time. Perhaps to fit in? It didn’t matter. He went out drinking until 3 in the morning, then stumbled home. He had trouble getting his key into the lock and ended up just sort of sagging there. He wanted to knock but didn’t want to wake Patrick so he settled for a sort of whispered shout of the name.

“Patrick!” At last footsteps could be heard. The door opened and he almost fell inside. Two strong hands came out and caught him. He looked up blearily. “Patrick!” He whisper-shouted again. 

The taller man coughed and turned his head. “You are drunk.”

“I am. Totally soused. Sorry. Didn’t mean to wake you but couldn’t get my key to work.”

“Possibly because that is your shoe,” Patrick said dryly, helping him inside. 

He looked down. Sure enough, he had been trying to open the door with his shoe. “Oh. At least I took it off.” He sat down heavily on the couch where Patrick had just dropped him gently. 

“Thank you for that. Though both would have been better.” He pointed down to where the other shoe was still on. 

“Sorry.” He tried to lean down to take it off and the room started spinning. “Ooo.”

“Don’t vomit!” Patrick cried, pushing him back up. “Do you need to?”

“No. Don’t think so.”

“Good. Then I think you should go to sleep.”

“Hmmm. Sleep sounds good.” He flopped over then made a noise of discontent. 

“Don’t you want to get undressed? Or get the bed out?”

“No. Just need one thing.”

“And what’s that?” Patrick asked, interested. 

“Your lap. More comfy than anything. Love to sleep in your lap. Feels like home.” He was half asleep and did not notice Patrick freeze above him and then slowly sink down on his knees, face to face with him. 

“Brian?”

“Mmmm?”

A long pause. So long he thought Patrick had fallen asleep. Then a hand carded through his hair and a very soft voice commanded, “never mind. Go to sleep, Brian.”

“Mmmm.” He did so. When he woke in the morning--luckily it had been Thursday night and he had the next few days off--his head was aching. As was nearly every other part of his body. He rose unsteadily and made his way to the bathroom. He did not have to throw up. Until he came out and smelled the food. He almost ran back to the bathroom. 

“Breakfast?” It came out croaky. He was surprised. After all, Patrick didn’t usually make breakfast on the mornings after he worked. 

“I figured you needed something to soak up all that alcohol. You should have drunk water after all that alcohol last night.” Patrick’s voice was vaguely admonishing and he hadn’t yet turned to look at Brian, who sat--very gingerly--down at the table. “How’s your head?”

“Hurts.”

“Did you take medicine?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” He half turned and put a bowl of oatmeal down. “Now eat.”

Surprised, Brian looked at the bowl. “I didn’t even know we had oatmeal.”

“We don’t. I ran to get some this morning. Chewing would be too much work, you need something soft that would go down easy.”

He lifted a spoonful and tried it. It tasted terrible but he ate anyway. His stomach protested a little but Patrick was right. He needed it. It was only as he was finishing that he realized the man was still not looking at him, busily cleaning up and tidying things. “Patrick?”

“Finished?” He glanced back. “Is that all you want?”

“Yes, thank you.” He watched the other man take the bowl and go back to the sink. “Patrick?” He tried again. 

“Yes?”

“Why won’t you look at me?”

“Don’t be silly, I have looked at you several times this morning.”

He sat there for a brief moment, then stood and went over to the sink, half turning his friend. Who turned but kept his eyes down. “Did I do something to make you angry?”

“Of course not.”

“Then what is it? Why won’t you look at me?”

“Oh for heaven’s sake!” Patrick looked up quickly, then back down. “There, I looked at you. Happy?” He tried to turn away but Brian’s arm stayed where it was. 

He had been thinking, trying to remember. “What did I say last night? When I got home.”

“It’s not important.”

“Obviously it is.”

“Brian--”

“It must be or you would just tell me,” he went on. “Did I say something horrible?”

“No. Quite the opposite, in fact.”

That stopped him. “What?”

“It doesn’t matter. We’ll forget it, just like--” Patrick cut himself off again.

A very long moment of time stretched out. “Like the kiss,” Brian whispered. “Oh God. Did I kiss you?”

“No,” Patrick said immediately. 

“Then what? Please, Patrick. I have to know.”

“It hardly matters.”

“Then why can’t you tell me?”

With a sigh, Patrick squared his shoulders and looked him full on. “You were quiet drunk. After trying to open the door with your removed shoe you said you wanted to sleep. You said,” he paused for a moment, “that you didn’t want the bed pulled out. That you would rather sleep on my lap. That it was, and I quote, more comfy than anything. That you love to sleep in my lap. You said,” he paused again, “that it feels like home.”

Brian had stopped breathing. “That made you so upset you can’t even look at me?”

“What? No.”

“Then why can’t you?”

“Because.”

“Patrick.”

He sighed and looked down then back up. “Because I’m afraid you were lying. That you’ll take it back today.”

Brian’s breath stopped again. “Really?”

Shuffling his feet, Patrick nodded.


	4. Chapter 4

Brian waited a moment then brought a hand up and caught hold of his flat mate’s shoulder. “Patrick?” He asked after a long moment went by. 

“Yes?”

“Can I kiss you?”

The taller man looked at him. “I don’t know, can you?”

Brian let out a surprised laugh. “ _May_ I kiss you then?”

“You may. If you mean it.”

“Oh, I will.” He said it fervently. He took his time, moving slowly, giving Patrick time to change his mind. At last their lips met in a gentle kiss. He didn’t push it, just let it happen. One hand still on Patrick’s shoulder, no other body parts touching. “How was that?” He asked as he pulled away enough to speak. 

“Lovely, thank you.”

He couldn’t help but laugh and then felt bad when Patrick turned red. “I’m not laughing at you,” he told him. “Just…only you would be so polite after a kiss. It’s adorable.”

Now Patrick turned a different shade of red. “Kittens are adorable.”

“So are you.” He slid his hand up from the shoulder to touch Patrick’s face. “But we’re not going to rush this. We need to talk first.”

The man who had just been kissed nodded. “I suppose so.” 

They moved to the sofa, putting some space between each other but not too much. Brian turned to look at him. “You first or me?”

“I think you first.”

“Right.” He gathered his thoughts. “Well, first I have to tell you I meant what I said last night. I don’t remember it but I meant it.”

Patrick looked pleased and slightly embarrassed.

“I don’t know when or how but somewhere along the line I started thinking of as, well, more than a friend. I started to have romantic thoughts about you.”

“Are you a homosexual?” Patrick interjected. 

“No. At least I don’t think so. I’ve always liked girls, women, I mean. You know about me and Alice, about Rebecca.”

“Yes.”

“I don’t know what happened but I just…fell for you, I think. Even now, I have to tell you, I’m not sure exactly what I’m feeling.”

“Understandable.” Patrick sounded very practical. 

“But I do know that it’s strong. And, well, I’d like to find out more. But I don’t want to use you as an experiment, you understand?”

“Thank you for that.” Patrick’s voice was wry. 

“What about you? You know, aside from looks at Alice I’ve never seen you with women or anything.”

“I’ve never been big on dating life. I had a girlfriend my first year of college. But it sort of petered out. We were both too busy with school.”

“There’s been no one since then?” Brian was astounded. 

“I’ve gone on a few dates. My mother, in particular, likes to try to set me up with women of ‘our’ class.” Patrick scoffed. “None of them have any brains in their heads whatsoever.”

Brian smiled. Yes, brains would be more important to Patrick than anything else. “And me?” He had to ask. 

“I…have had feelings for men before. I have to admit, I wonder if part of my antagonism with you at first was because I found you so attractive.” Patrick was looking down at his perfectly clean jeans. “I tried to redirect my feelings to Alice. She is an attractive female.”

Brian nodded, not wanting to speak. Patrick didn’t see it. 

“Then we, miraculously, became friends. I contented myself with that. It’s been…a long time since I’ve had a real friend.” He sounded wistful. “I did not want to give that up for what was likely to be anger on your part if I made an advance. So I satisfied myself with our friendship.”

“I see,” Brian said, to let the other man know he was listening. 

“It all rather came bursting out in that silly kiss on the cheek.” Patrick sounded a bit bitter. “I resolved even harder to push my burgeoning feelings down. Then, last night--”

“Yes. Last night.” Brian scooted closer. “Patrick, look. As I said, I’m willing to give this a try.”

“Have you really thought about this?” Patrick suddenly looked up, eyes glittering. “To engage in a homosexual relationship with me? It was a criminal act not long ago. It’s still considered dirty by many. This is the 80’s and a more enlightened period than before but still, being gay is a stigma. Your friends, your mother. Especially that Spencer fellow. I can only imagine the names he would call you.”

Brian had thought of all this. He said so. “Patrick. If there’s one thing I learned from the debacle that became my life after the quiz show, it’s this: sometimes things get bollixed up. When you think you’re at your lowest, you think your life is going down the drain, an unexpected turn happens. If you take that path, you can find happiness you hadn’t expected to first. I can’t say for sure I know what I’m getting into. How could I know? But, Patrick,” here he reached out and captured the other man’s hands, holding tight, “I can’t let this opportunity pass me by. You and I are so different and yet we have so much in common. Particularly our love for learning. I’d like to find out how real these feelings are. If you’re game?”

Patrick looked down at their joined hands for a long time. At last he looked up. “Fingers on buzzers,” he said, a bit hoarsely, eyes slightly damp. 

“You sure?” 

Patrick nodded then moved in closer. They leaned in, kissing very softly. 

“We’ll take this slow,” Brian promised. 

“Hmmm. Not too slow, I hope.”

Startled, Brian laughed. 

“One more thing, if I may?” Patrick put forth, sitting back, relinquishing one hand but not the other. 

“What’s that?”

“I would appreciate it if you did not go out drinking with your ‘mates’ anymore.” He made it sound much more prim and proper than it should have been. “Or, at the least, that if you must do, that you ‘crash’, as they say, somewhere else? I’m not sure my heart can take more surprise drunken revelations.”

Brian was grinning. “I promise.” He suddenly yawned. “Sorry,” he apologized. 

A wicked gleam in his eye, Patrick patted his lap. “A nap might do you some good.”

Shaking his head in happy exasperation, he laid down. “Wake me in about an hour. I don’t want to keep you trapped all day.”

“Yes dear.” It was obviously meant to come out sarcastically but instead it sounded…sweet, Brian thought? He sighed and drifted off to sleep. 

When he woke it was precisely one hour later and he was being gently shaken. “I’m up, I’m up. Thank you. Now I’m more awake for tonight.” He stopped. It being Friday they would have their usual dinner. But now, what did it mean? Should they change their plans? He turned, questions in his eyes, to look at Patrick. Who looked just as confused. 

“Just act like normal?” Patrick suggested. 

Brian shrugged. “Sounds like a plan.” 

They stayed still for a few minutes then Patrick got up, left the room and came back in with the book he’d been reading. He settled back down on the couch, giving Brian a look. Who went to find his own book. The only small concession that was made were the occasional glances they gave each other. As evening drew in, Brian set his book aside. He rose, heading for the bowl that contained his and Patrick’s keys. 

“Going out?” Patrick tried to sound nonchalant. 

“Just for a minute. I won’t miss supper.”

“All right.” He sounded resigned. 

Brian thought about saying something or even doing something. Instead, he pocketed his keys and left. He went to several shops and made it home just in time. Letting himself in, he saw Patrick just sitting down to the table. A bowl of spaghetti was sitting between their two plates, rolls off to the side and a salad on the other. Patrick glanced at him as he advanced. “You need to wash up.”

“In a moment.” He pulled his left hand out from behind his back. He was holding a bouquet of flowers. Zinnias. He saw Patrick’s eyes widen. “I thought we could use these for our meal. You have something we can put them in?”

“Yes, of course.” His flat mate got up and reached under the sink, pulling out a vase that looked a little too big but would work. They put the flowers in it and Brian filled it with water, then set it on the table. 

He then took the bag off his wrist and pulled out two candle holders. “Didn’t know if you had any,” he mumbled, a bit embarrassed. 

“I have a pair. And candles. But I thought we agreed--?”

“Maybe I realized that this was basically going to be our first date and thought we should make it reflect that status.”

Patrick looked at him then abruptly burst into a smile. “I’ll get the candles.” He disappeared and came back with two long white tapers. He put them in the candle holders that Brian had put on the table. Finding some matches, Patrick lit them. “What else is in that bag?” 

“Just one more thing. For later.”

Patrick’s eyebrows went up. 

“Mind out of the gutter,” Brian laughed. He set the bag aside, where Patrick couldn’t see into it, and went to sit down. Then moving to the sink to wash his hands at the pointed look. When he was clean, he sat back down and helped himself. He had regained his appetite and ate heartily. But he did not fully stuff his face, as he might have. At last, he pushed away from the table and got up, retrieving the bag. “I hope you saved some room.” He pulled a small container or chocolate éclairs out and set them on the table. “I know they probably won’t be as good as your cupcakes but I thought we deserved a special dessert.”

Patrick was smiling. “That was very thoughtful of you. I do like éclairs.”

They broke open the package and helped themselves to one each. Biting into it, Brian shook his head. 

“Not good?” Patrick asked, having not eaten his yet. 

“Not bad,” Brian said, “but I much prefer your cupcakes.”

Beaming, Patrick took a bite. “At the risk of sounding immodest, I agree.” They laughed together and finished the éclairs. After, they cleaned up--as usual--though they did brush against each other a bit more. Then they moved to the couch to watch telly. They sat close but did not cuddle. 

Things stayed that way for a while. They carried on as they had with only a bit more affectionate touching and kisses here and there. Neither pressed the other. They did not tell anyone else about their change in relationship. Brian did not mention it to Rebecca or his mother, at any rate. He didn’t think Patrick told anyone either. 

Midsummer came and went. He was invited out again, to drink with co-workers. He did go with but only limited himself to one beer. When he came home, he saw Patrick waiting up again but saw the relief at his (mostly) sober state. They had their Friday date nights, now always with romantic accoutrements. 

One Friday morning, as August wore on, Brian casually asked, “do you have a suit?”

“Of course,” came the immediate reply. 

“Could you wear it tonight?”

“You want me to wear a suit for dinner here at the flat?” Patrick turned in his chair, away from the typewriter. 

“Actually, I thought we might go out.” 

Patrick’s eyes narrowed. “Somewhere I would need to wear a suit.” It was not a question but not quite a statement either. 

“Mmm-hmmm,” he hummed. 

“Do you have a suit?” Patrick sounded genuinely curious. 

“You’ll have to wait and see, won’t you?” With that, Brian turned back to his book and would not answer any more questions. He left the room to go get ready later. And when he emerged he was very nervous indeed. Patrick came out to find him fidgeting on the sofa. At least, until he got a look at Patrick in his suit. 

Standing, Brian could feel his mouth falling open. If he thought Patrick looked good in jumpers or even in button down shirts, he looked even better in a suit. Somehow it made him look slimmer without detracting from his form. 

Patrick shot his sleeves. “Since I don’t know where we’re going, I hope this is all right.”

“It is.” It came out a bit hoarse. 

“You look quite good. I didn’t know you own a suit.”

“Gotta have something to wear for funerals.” He regretted his flippant tone instantly. 

Patrick obviously saw and held out an arm. “What time are the reservations?”

“7:30. We should get going.” 

They did. Neither man had a car so they took a taxi. Pulling up, Patrick let out a chuckle. 

“What?” Brian asked, curious. 

“I half thought we’d be going to your work.”

“No. I get enough of that place as it is. Besides,” he leaned in close as they walked in the eatery, “I know what goes on in that kitchen, remember!” 

Patrick let out a laugh that warmed Brian to his toes. They went to the maître d’s stand. “Reservations for Jackson,” he announced. 

The snooty man looked down at his book. “Jackson, Jackson. I’m not sure I see that name, sir.”

Brian had been anticipating this and started to reach a hand into his pocket but Patrick stopped him. “The name,” he said in his most supercilious manner, “was Jackson. Or perhaps you might inform the owner that it should be under the name Watts. As in my father, George Watts?”

The man blanched a little at the name. “Ah, apologies, gentlemen. Yes, your table is ready.” He led them straight to a prime table, near the window. “The sommelier will be with you shortly.” Then he hurried off. 

“Your Dad?” Brian asked, wryly. 

“His name can often get results, though I am loath to use it.”

“Thank you for doing it this time, though I had some extra cash.”

“You shouldn’t have to pay him to remember your name.” Patrick sounded angry. 

The sommelier came over just then but Brian dismissed the man, saying they would be sticking to non-alcoholic beverages that night. He saw the pleased smile on Patrick’s face and knew he’d made the right choice. The waiter came and took their drink orders--club soda for Brian, water for Patrick--and left menus. 

Patrick looked unsure. 

“What?”

“Er, do I need to pick something,” he looked embarrassed, “inexpensive?”

Brian felt a warm glow that Patrick had asked. “No. I promise we won’t have to wash dishes to pay the check. I’ve got enough. I asked Kelly, who used to work here, about prices and made sure I could cover anything. Even the two most expensive dishes on the menu plus dessert.”

Patrick still looked a little anxious. “I didn’t want to have ask you about that--”

“I’d rather you did than order something costly and me coming up empty,” Brian chuckled. “But relax, it’s fine.”

“You didn’t have to bring us somewhere so expensive,” Patrick protested as he went back to his menu.

“I figured it would be nice.” Suddenly uncertain himself, he asked, “why? Do you hate it? Do you want to go?”

“No!” Patrick glanced around and lowered his voice. “But I don’t need this sort of thing. I get enough of it with my parents.”

“I just wanted to do something special. Our first ‘real’ date,” he made the air quotes. 

“The others didn’t count?” Patrick sounded amused. 

“Not like this. I mean, I loved them,” he back pedaled, “but they weren’t proper dates, you know?”

“It’s only proper if a certain dollar amount is spent?”

“You’re teasing me,” Brian said, sounding amused and startled. 

“Possibly.” Patrick smiled down into his menu. 

He shook his head. “I think a proper date requires leaving your flat, at least for a while.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” 

The waiter passed by and they said they needed more time to decide. Brian watched Patrick set his menu aside. “Know what you want?”

“Yes, I think so. You?”

“Can’t decide between the chicken parmesan or the grilled salmon. What are you getting?”

“The pasta primavera.”

Brian sat back, surprised. “Really? You’re going to have pasta? We could have that at home.”

“I want to taste it here.” Suddenly frowning, Patrick asked, “why? Do you think I shouldn’t?”

“No. I mean, yes. I mean, you should get what you want.” The waiter came by again and Patrick was about to wave him off but Brian closed his menu and nodded. Patrick ordered his dish and then Brian asked for the grilled salmon. The waiter--he’d introduced himself as Jacques--took their menus. Brian fiddled with his napkin, not quite ready to put it in his lap. 

“I’m sorry.”

The words from Patrick made his head snap up. “What? Why?”

“I feel I’m making a hash of this. Asking impertinent questions, ordered the wrong food--”

“It’s not the wrong food!” He lowered his voice. “Patrick, it’s okay. I’m just…” He huffed and made himself admit the truth. “I’m nervous.”

“Why?” Patrick sounded genuinely surprised. 

“This isn’t my usual sort of place and I’m afraid of doing or saying something stupid. You grew up rich, you know how to behave. Plus, like I said, this is our first proper date. I want to do it right.”

Patrick looked at him for a long minute then smiled. “What utter poppycock. You’re doing fine, if anything I’m the one--”

“You’re really not,” Brian interjected. 

“Look, let’s just agree that you’ve no reason to be nervous, that we should relax. Yes?”

Brian nodded. “Agreed.”

They looked at each other for a moment then both burst out laughing. Brian had to take a drink from his soda. 

“At least this isn’t Victorian times. If we’d been dating then--and we never could have due to conventions--it would have been a lot more difficult.” Patrick launched into an in depth recitation of what dating back then had been like, Brian listening. That got them discussing other things and soon they were talking like normal. 

There was a small moment of discomfort when the waiter brought them their food and they couldn’t decide whether to eat or keep talking. Finally they decided to eat, then talk. The food was excellent and Brian ate the whole plateful. Patrick, he noticed, ate some of his pasta but not all. 

“Not very good?” Brian asked at last. 

“It’s fine.”

“Patrick…”

“I think they used too much spice.”

“We can ask them to remake it.”

“No need.” He took another bite, trying to hide a face he was making. 

Brian thought about calling their waiter back over but instead he shoved his plate aside. Patrick took it as a signal and also did for himself. They sipped until the waiter returned. 

“Dessert, gentlemen?” Jacques asked. 

“Yes please,” Brian put in before Patrick could answer.

Jacques walked away and returned with their menus again. Brian already knew what he wanted, having spotted it earlier. Apparently Patrick did as well as he barely glanced at his. They stopped Jacques from leaving. 

“I’ll have the chocolate cake,” Brian said. 

“The tiramisu for me,” Patrick said. 

Soon both arrived. They dug in with gusto. 

“Good?” Brian asked. 

“Oh yes. Much better than the pasta. How is your cake?”

“Good. But,” he confessed, “not as good as your cupcakes.”

Pleased, Patrick turned a bit pink, almost missing his mouth with the next bite. They smiled at each other over their desserts until they were done. Brian asked for the check and pulled out his wallet. It was a huge wad of cash but it also made him very grown up to pay for this. He left a generous tip, then stood. “Ready?”

“Yes.” They headed out. 

Brian did not hail a cab or start toward home. Rather, he began walking in another direction. Patrick followed him. “Are we heading somewhere else? A movie, perhaps?”

“Somewhere else, yes. Movie, no.” That was all Brian would tell him. 

They ended up outside of the place Brian worked. Patrick looked a bit disappointed. “Did you need to stop in for some reason?”

“Some reason,” Brian nodded and led him inside. They passed by a few people, who waved or said hi to him. They made their way through the kitchens, stopping to say hello to Jimmy. Then they continued to a small door. They passed through it to a hallway and a staircase. They went up, to another door. Brian opened it and stepped through, beckoning his date. 

He watched Patrick’s face as the man stepped out onto the roof. 

“Whatever are we doing up here?”

“I thought we could enjoy the night sky.” Suddenly unsure of himself, he went over and got the blanket he’d hidden away up here. He didn’t put it down though. “Sorry. Should we just go?”

Patrick looked contrite. “No. I’m sorry.” He reached out for the blanket and they spread it carefully, sitting down. 

Brian had made sure that they could see the sky from here. He said as much. 

“It’s luckily a fairly clear night.” 

“I had a contingency for rain.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. Skipping this,” he gestured down. 

Patrick let out a laugh.


	5. Chapter 5

Brian loosened his tie, then lay back. He held his breath for a moment, then Patrick followed him. At least in the laying back part. They stayed there, like that, not speaking. He reached out his hand and curled fingers around Patrick’s. They held hands on that roof for a time, then Brian half sat up. He reached out his free hand and touched Patrick’s face. 

“May I kiss you?”

“Yes.”

He did. It was soft and gentle. He pulled away with a smile, went to lie back down. Two big hands came up, caught him, pulled him back down. This time the kiss was harder, more passionate. Patrick’s big hand touched his chest. He opened his eyes, saw Patrick do the same. He saw heat there. 

He struggled to stand. He had hold of Patrick’s other hand. They had to let go to get the blanket but then they hurried down the stairs, trying hard not to grab each other. Brian impatiently spoke to people until they were free. They hailed a cab, though it was within walking distance, to get home sooner. He had some cash left. He fidgeted in the car. Patrick was almost unnaturally still. 

At last they arrived home, Brian paying as the other went to get the door. They rushed up the stairs, coming close to touching but not quite daring yet. Patrick already had his key out and was shoving it in the lock. Without either one bothering to remove their shoes, they went through, slammed the door shut. Then Brian had Patrick back against the door. He kissed him, aggressively. 

Patrick’s long arms encircled him, pulling the smaller body in. 

“I want you,” Brian breathed the words. 

“Have me,” came the instant reply. 

Brian groaned at the words. He dove in, licking his way into Patrick’s mouth, hands working to remove the jacket. He was a bit hindered by the man still being plastered to the door. Eventually he got it off, dropping it on the floor. It was a measure of how far gone Patrick was that he didn’t protest. Then, without breaking the kiss, he went to work on the tie. He got that undone and off. Next up was undoing the buttons of the shirt. He spread it open and pulled back out of the kiss. 

Patrick let out a noise of dismay. 

Brian looked at him then down at his well-muscled chest. For a nerd, he really was well built. He spread the shirt open wider and bent his head--though not by much due to their height difference. He pressed a soft kiss right to the center. 

“Oh!”

“Too much?”

“No.”

Brian smiled and went back in, peppering that chest with kisses. The shirt got in the way a few times so he pulled until it was off as well. Now Patrick was nude from the waist up. Feeling reciprocation was needed, and also wanting those hands on him as well, he pulled back and began ripping his own clothes off. Jacket doffed, then his shirt unbuttoned in a rush. He pulled it off, tossed it aside. He moved, pressing in. As their naked torsos touched, they both gasped loudly. He dove in for another kiss. 

His hands moved downward, sliding to the fronts. He felt a burgeoning erection there and smiled against the other man’s lips. He began undoing the trousers but his hands were stopped. He pulled away, concerned. 

“I’d prefer a more horizontal position. Perhaps away from the door?”

“Of course.” He pulled, Patrick pushed and they stumbled their way to the living room. Brian spared a thought both for Patrick’s bedroom and for converting the couch into a bed. But then they were kissing again and tipping over, hands roaming, and he threw all such thoughts aside. All he knew was he had this glorious man on top of him, smushing him down into the cushions, their bodies pressed together. 

“Should have gotten our trousers off when we were vertical,” Patrick murmured. 

“We’ll work it out.” Brian’s hands were already busy, undoing and yanking down his own, not wanting to presume. Patrick also was moving and soon they were both down to pants. He crooked his leg between both of Patrick’s and felt his cock throb as their groins met between two thin layers of fabric. 

“Patrick,” he gasped out the name, thrusting upwards. 

“Brian.” It was said huskily, as a hot mouth pressed itself to any skin that it could reach. 

“Not going to last long, sorry.”

“Don’t apologize for finding me attractive.”

“Oh Patrick,” Brian said, grabbing his face and kissing him hard. “I find you a lot more than _attractive_.” He proceeded to show him by pushing his hand down into the other man’s pants. When he touched Patrick’s cock, the man let out a small whine. Pleased, he wrapped his fingers around that hot dick. He’d never had another man’s, well, manhood, in his hands. His own? Plenty of times, of course. It felt the same but different. He was cataloguing the feel of it when he heard his name from above him. 

“Do you think you might do more than just hold onto me like the handle on a kettle?” Patrick sounded a bit put out. 

Giggling at the image, Brian apologized. “Sorry. Just noting the difference between you and me.”

“Oh?” Patrick maneuvered his own hand down and under cloth. Brian gasped as those slender fingers wrapped around him. “Hmmm. Yes, I see what you mean.”

“Oh you bastard!” They laughed together, not letting go, rolling a little. When they almost fell off the couch, they tried to calm down but that just made them laugh harder. He buried his face in Patrick’s neck and tried not to snort. 

“Is it always like this?” 

“Like what?” He asked, not moving.

“Fun.”

Brian pulled back and saw Patrick’s face. “It should be. When it’s done right.”

“And have you? Done it right?”

“I’ve done it,” Brian confessed. “With girls.” He paused. “You?”

Patrick turned his eyes away, ashamed, withdrawing his hand. His silence was all the answer that Brian needed. 

He kissed him again and skimmed his hands down, tugging off the pants. “It’s all right. We aren’t rushing, remember?”

“But you said you wanted me.” It came out a little plaintive. 

“I do. Enough to be willing to wait.” He saw the surprise and then the pleasure that came over his friend--boyfriend?, lover?--and smiled back. He pulled him down for a kiss. “Though it will be hard.” He hit the last word with emphasis and was rewarded with a groan at the pun. 

“Surely we can do some things?”

“Surely,” Brian agreed. He put his hand back on Patrick’s now uncovered erection. He tugged it gently as he pretended to think. “But what?”

Patrick growled at him, which got his blood pumping, and pushed him down into the sofa. They made out, kissing and licking at mouths and flesh. “You need to be naked too.”

“Do I? Did you want to see to that then?”

Another growl; Brian thrilled at it, and his pants were removed in hasty fashion. Patrick’s hand touched him and he almost went off then. They worked each other, at first the way they obviously did themselves but then in other ways, based off reactions and responses. Brian noticed that if he slid his hand up then whipped it back down quickly that got a hip bucking from Patrick. When Patrick gave Brian a soft squeeze and then rubbed his thumb over the tip, it made Brian’s cock pulse with pre-come. 

They kissed when they could, touched with free hands where they could reach. At last Brian panted, “so close.”

“Me too.” Patrick slid his hand up and down faster. 

Brian responded with the same. He panted and moaned out Patrick’s name. Then he was coming. He wanted to throw his head back and just ride it out but he also wanted to give his sexual partner the thrill he was feeling. So after his own orgasm had subsided, he worked Patrick as best he knew how until he too groaned low in his throat and climaxed. His big body collapsed down on top of Brian’s prone one. 

They lay there, catching their breath, until Brian gently pushed at him. “Need to breathe.”

“Sorry.” Patrick looked chagrined. 

“It’s all right. We should get cleaned up.”

“Right.” Patrick extracted himself, a bit thorny as they were somewhat stuck together. He finally stood, free and clear. He wasn’t looking at Brian. 

“Hey.” Brian reached out and touched him. “You all right?”

“I…it…was I any good?” He looked like he was waiting to be laughed at. 

Brian stood stock still for a moment then moved, his heart hurting at how Patrick flinched as he did. He caught him in his arms and pulled him close. Kissing him, he said, “one helluva lot better than all right, Patrick Watts. Trust me. If they gave a prize, you’d have won.”

Patrick looked disbelieving then smiled. “Really?”

“Absolutely. It was great. So much so I would love to repeat it. Soon.”

“As would I. You showed me several different techniques that I found rather erotic.”

Brian smiled. “Thanks. Now, let’s go get cleaned up, yeah?”

They trooped to the lav, which was so small they had to take turns. Patrick insisted that Brian go first. He hurried, marveling at how calm he felt. His first ever sex with a man. With Patrick, who just last year had been his enemy, but a man he now cared for than he wanted to admit--even to himself. He hadn’t brought any clothing in with him so he reopened the door buck naked. Patrick was leaning against the wall, eyes closed. He opened them, eyes roving over Brian’s nudity. 

“Your turn.” Brian started to walk around him. “Well, I’m off to bed. Good night, Patrick.”

The other man, on his way into the bathroom, stopped. “Oh. You don’t want to, um…”

“What?”

“Sleep with me? I mean, in my bed.”

Brian halted. “You mean that?”

“I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t.”

He nodded. True enough. “Sure. Though I’ve been told I tend to hog the covers.”

“I’ll cope,” Patrick replied dryly and disappeared, only to reopen the door. “You can go ahead.” He nodded toward the bedroom door. 

Brian went in, after a brief detour to get his pajamas from the other room and put them on. He’d been in here a few times before and was prepared. There were a scant few posters on the walls, arty and tasteful. An abstract print as well, in an expensive looking frame. Another bookshelf and a small work space but most of the room was taken by the bed. Not the small twin he had first thought would be in here, it was bigger than that. He’d sat on it once and found it quite comfortable. There were blankets and pillows on the bed. Unsure of which side to take, he stood by it, waiting. 

Patrick came in and stopped. “Something wrong?”

“Didn’t know which side,” he admitted. 

“Oh. I tend to sleep on the left, closest to the wall. If you need--”

“No, the right side is fine.” In fact, that was his preference. He climbed in. There was a lamp on the wall above Patrick’s side, with a chain hanging down. 

“Would you like to do some reading?”

“No, I’m pretty worn out.” He couldn’t help but smile as he thought back on the evening and its events. 

Patrick looked startled then smiled too. “Very well. Good night.” He reached up to pull the chain. 

“No good night kiss?”

Turning in surprise, Patrick looked at him. “Did you want one?”

“Wouldn’t mind. But it’s not necessary. I was just joking.”

“Nevertheless.” He leaned over and kissed him sweetly. “Good night.”

“Good night.”

The light clicked off and they both settled back. It was awkward and they were both keeping unnaturally still. Finally Brian sighed a deep sigh and rolled over on his side, throwing his arm over Patrick’s stiff body. He cozied up, feeling better. The body in his arms stayed stiff and then slowly un-tensed. A few moments later, they both fell asleep. 

Brian woke later, wondering why everything felt odd and why there was a weight on his chest. He tried to sit up but something held him down. He looked and it came rushing back to him. Patrick had hold of him and was snuggled tightly against him. He settled back down and dared to reach up and run a hand through that hair. No longer perfectly smoothed back but loose and wavier than ever, he couldn’t resist. 

Patrick hummed in his sleep, which made Brian smile all the larger. He kept stroking his fingers through the hair as the room brightened with sunlight. A wiggle of the body against him, a half asleep noise, made him stop. “Don’t stop.” It was barely audible and more than drowsily said. 

He let out a soft chuckle and resumed his ministrations. Seconds later, he felt Patrick’s body stiffened and saw his eyes fly open. He waited, still stroking, as the other man remembered and possibly worked through panic. 

“Good morning?”

“It is a good morning, though barely dawn,” Brian agreed. “I think we’ve earned a bit of a lie in this Saturday, don’t you?”

“Yes?”

Brian smiled, unseen. He kept pushing his hand through that hair, smile getting wider as Patrick practically curled into him. 

After several minutes, Patrick spoke up again. “Brian?”

“Mmmm.”

“Are you…do you regret…?”

Without moving, without even stopping his hand, he said softly but firmly. “Not a single moment from last night.”

He felt the tension release a moment before Patrick moved, leaning up and meeting his eyes. 

“The same for me.”

“Good.” They came together and kissed lightly. Settling back down, the resumed their previous positions. “Comfy?”

“Very. Um, if I may ask--?”

“Go ahead.”

“Your hand. Er, in my hair?”

Smiling, Brian simply murmured, “bothering you?”

“No! I mean, no,” Patrick lowered his voice. 

“Good. I rather like it where it is. My hand, I mean.”

“Me too.” 

Silence reigned and Brian began to drowse. He woke up later to find Patrick gone from the bed and the sun shining high in the sky. He got up, checked the clock and couldn’t believe it said 11 AM. He stumbled out of bed, made his way to the bathroom and then out to the kitchen, scratching the back of his head. The only times he slept this late were when he’d been working the night before. But then, it had been a busy night. He grinned as he thought of it. 

He was surprised to find the kitchen empty. “Huh.” He looked around. No Patrick. Thinking that perhaps the man had had to run out to do an errand, he set about making himself breakfast. They had a few boxes of cereal for when they didn’t feel like omelets or other such foods and he poured himself a bowl. He ate the whole thing, rinsed out the dish and even got dressed. Still no Patrick. He looked around for a note.

Nothing. 

A little disturbed but shrugging it off, he cleaned up a bit then settled down to try to read. An hour later, still no Patrick. He admitted he was starting to get concerned. The afternoon passed and in an effort to keep his mind busy and himself occupied, he cleaned the bathroom. Then took a shower and cleaned the tub again. He was just thinking about going out and looking for Patrick when the door opened. 

Not wanting to be caught worrying, he threw himself onto the sofa and opened the nearest book. He pretended to be absorbed as Patrick came in, neatly dressed as always. 

“Up at last, are we?”

“Mmm-hmmm.” He waved a hand, pretending to be deep into reading. He felt Patrick come over, after putting down the paper bag he’d been carrying, and stand by him. 

“Brian?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re reading my engineering book.”

Caught but trying to bluff, he replied, “just broadening my horizons.”

“It’s upside down.”

Brian looked. It was. “Damn!”

“Language!”

“Sorry.” Then he went on. “You were gone when I woke up. For a really long time.”

“Did you think I had skipped town?”

That made it sound stupid. “No, of course not.”

“Then what?” Patrick asked, sinking down beside him on the sofa. 

He shrugged a little. “I thought maybe you’d changed your mind and were trying to think of a way to let me down easy.”

Patrick reached out his hands, pulled them back, made a resolute face and extended them again, cupping Brian’s chin. “I haven’t changed my mind. Have you?”

“Not at all.”

“Excellent to hear.” He leaned in and kissed him on the cheek, then stood. “Come see what I bought, then.” He led Brian over to the bag and began pulling out items. 

It took a minute for Brian to get it then he laughed and clapped his hands. “You’re going to make cupcakes!”

“Dessert was tasty last night but you said you prefer mine.”

“I did. Meant it, too.” He saw the pleased look and smiled himself. They put things away, Patrick saying he would make the cupcakes later. Right now they simply intended to relax. Patrick picked the engineering book back up and settled down with, Brian going to grab his own book to read. Feeling happy, he sat down on the other end of the sofa and put his feet up in Patrick’s lap. 

The other man looked startled, glancing down at the appendages there. He glanced over to Brian who couldn’t stop the grin. “Cheeky.”

“Hmm.” He wiggled his feet but kept them where they were. He noticed that Patrick did not remove them. 

That night, he was unceremoniously told to go away while Patrick made the cupcakes. Something that had to be done in secrecy, Brian was told. He went out for a while, finishing a letter to Rebecca and posting it. He did not tell her about the change in their relationship, though he thought she would likely figure it out once she was back. When he returned it was to cupcakes cooling on the counter. He reached for one and had his hand slapped for his trouble. 

“Oi! Fine thing, hitting me.”

“It was just a slap. Hands off the baked goods until they are frosted.”

“Can’t you do that now?”

“They have to cool first. They’ll be ready by tomorrow.”

“Can I have one for breakfast then?” He grinned as Patrick rolled his eyes. 

Later, as bed time approached, he saw Patrick get fidgety again. Finally, he took matters into his own hands, so to speak. He got up, went to the lav and came back out in his pajamas. “Ready for bed?” 

Patrick looked up at him, his heart in his eyes. “If you like.”

He held out his hand. “C’mon then.” He led him to the hallway, gesturing toward the bathroom, as he continued on. Brian was in bed, wearing his glasses and reading, when Patrick came in. He pulled back the covers and the other man slid in. “This all right?” He asked at last. 

“Yes, of course. I wasn’t sure you would want to, is all.”

“You didn’t kick me in your sleep. And your bed is much comfier than the sofa pull out. Plus,” he added, a bit wickedly, “you are extremely cuddly.”

Patrick looked affronted. “I am not cuddly!”

Brian just chuckled. 

Patrick shook his head at him. Then he started to settle in. A few moments later--”Brian?”

“Hmmm?” He turned and was rewarded by a gentle kiss. 

“Good night.”

“Good night.” He stayed up for a bit, reading more, but eventually leaned over and clicked off the wall light himself. Patrick was already out. 

That began a new pattern. From then on, the only time Brian used the sofa bed was either when he came home late and did not want to wake Patrick or the one time that they had a huge row and he slept there in protest. The very next day there were makeup cupcakes and apologies and much kissing. 

The summer started to fade. He’d gotten the post and opened an official looking letter from the University. Patrick was in the shower, having gotten caught out in the rain. He looked at the piece of paper, trying to think, when Patrick entered the room. He was fully dressed, as he didn’t like to be naked outside the bedroom--or sex, at least. They’d manually stimulated each other a few more times, as Patrick would say, since then. Nothing further than that.


	6. Chapter 6

“What’s that?”

He thought about hiding it but then took a breath and held it out. “It’s from the University. About my dorm room for the fall term.”

Patrick stopped dead. “Oh?” It came out in a much higher register than intended, Brian could tell. “I see.”

“Um, about that.” He looked back down at the paper. “I suppose you’d like me to go?” 

“No, not really.”

Surprised, Brian’s head shot up. “Really?”

Patrick sat down. “You already live here,” he pointed out. “You can do off campus housing after you’re done with first year.”

“I didn’t want to presume. Besides, I can’t hold down a job during school and keep my marks up. I won’t be able to pay--”

“I already told you that wasn’t necessary,” Patrick interjected. 

“I know. Also, it’s a big step, isn’t it?”

“Why? We’re already living together.”

“For the summer. If I stay, it becomes more permanent.”

Patrick frowned. “You don’t want that?” He asked. 

Brian had been wondering that himself. Now he scooted closer and took hold of both of the other man’s hands. “I do,” he admitted. “More than I realized, actually. But I didn’t know what you wanted.”

“I do!” Patrick gripped his hands tighter. “The thought of you leaving fills me with dread.”

Brian looked at him. “Does it?”

“Yes. I’ve been waiting for this letter, wondering if it would mean you would leave me.”

“I don’t want to leave. Here, or you.”

“Then don’t. Tell the office you’ll be living here.”

He had to ask. “Are you sure?”

“As sure as my knowledge of Newton’s third law.”

Brian laughed. “That’s pretty sure. All right, if you want me, I’ll stay.”

“Yes!” Patrick yelled and threw a fist up into the air, then put it down and smoothed his shirt. “I mean--”

“That sounded pretty good to me,” Brian interrupted him, yanking on his shirt and pulling him in for a hard kiss. That led to groping, which led to hands down pants and orgasms. They caught their breath after and righted themselves. He went to write a reply to the registrar’s office to inform them he didn’t need a dorm room this year, he already had living quarters. Then he and Patrick spent the rest of the day debating which classes Brian should take in addition to those he needed for his degree. 

Two weeks later, Brian was walking through town, laden down with supplies for the new school year, when he heard his name. He turned. “Rebecca!” He almost dropped all his stuff. “What are you doing here?”

“I go to school here,” she shot back. 

“Yes, I know. I meant, I didn’t know you were back for semester yet.”

“I am. Couldn’t take much more of my family,” she said, taking some of his packages. 

“I know how that goes. How are you?”

They started talking, getting caught up but he had trouble balancing things--even with her helping. 

“Should we find somewhere to sit, maybe put this stuff down so we can have a proper conversation?”

“Oh, I’d love to,” and he meant it, “but I promised Patrick I’d be back in time for tea. He’s making scones, first time ever, and wants me to taste them.”

“Scones?” She looked amused. 

“Look, would you like to come? I’m sure there will be plenty. Besides, I could use help getting all this home.”

“If you’re sure?”

“C’mon.” They headed back to the flat. He put his stuff down as he dug out his key. The door opened before he could even insert it. 

“Brian--” Patrick stopped as he saw Rebecca. “Oh.”

“Hello,” she said. 

“You remember Rebecca, Patrick. We ran into each other while I was getting all this and she helped me carry it home. I invited her to try some of your scones.” He was puzzled as to why Patrick’s face suddenly went still. 

“I don’t have to,” she said. “If it’s an imposition--”

“Not at all.” Patrick’s voice sounded very stiff. “Please, come in.” He held the door wider. 

Brian shot him a look, puzzled at his odd behaviour. He brought his things in and set them on the sofa, ready to eat. “So!” He clapped his hands together and rubbed them. “Where are they?”

“Right here.” Patrick held out a plate. He also had some napkins, which he gave out. He did not take a scone for himself. 

Brian sat down at the table, gesturing for Rebecca to do the same. He knew better than to eat on the sofa. That had been the focus of their one and only big fight. He bit into the scone, not noticing Patrick still standing rigidly nearby. “Oh, this is delicious!” 

Rebecca had also taken a small bite, glancing up at Patrick. “He’s right. It’s extremely good.”

“Thank you.” He looked at them both. “Well, I’m sure you both have a great deal to catch up on. I need to run to the library. I’ll see you later.” With that, he set the plate down, got his jacket and made to leave. 

Surprised, Brian half stood. “You didn’t say anything about the library.”

Patrick didn’t answer. He merely left. 

“That was odd.”

Rebecca was looking at him, a shrewd expression on her face. “I don’t think he liked me being here.”

“What? I’m sure that’s not it.”

“I think it was. You invited me without asking him. I think this was supposed to be a private thing between you.” She gestured to the plates. 

He thought about it. “You think so?”

“I do. I also think he was a bit jealous.”

Brian’s eyes widened. “Jealous?”

“Brian. I’m not stupid. You think I can’t tell that your relationship with Patrick has….changed.” She chose her word carefully. 

He had finished his scone and now he dusted his hands together, putting them in his lap. “What makes you say that?”

“It’s obvious to anyone looking for the little clues. You talk about him all the time. You’ve moved in here and are staying here for school term.”

“We could just be good friends!” He protested. 

“You could. Except for the fact that he was jealous of my being here. Now, it could just be that he likes you without you returning the feelings. But the way you look at him says not.”

Brian was flustered. “I…I don’t know…”

“Relax,” she reached out and covered his hand. “This is me, remember?”

He did. He remembered protesting for gay rights with her and how she had strong political views and didn’t come from a normal family. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. I understand your trepidation. And maybe that’s part of why Patrick acted the way he did. I think I should go and you should find him and talk to him.” She stood, grabbing another scone. “These are great, by the way. Tell him for me?”

He nodded and walked her out. He slipped his shoes back on to go down the stairs with her. They hugged in the open doorway. She waved and he watched her walk away. Then he turned. To see Patrick standing still on the sidewalk, face white. “Patrick!”

The man turned and started to walk away. 

Brian ran after him, grabbing his arm. “Patrick!”

“I forgot my library card. That’s why I came back. I’m sorry to have interrupted your tryst. I assume you will be moving out soon?”

“What? What are you talking about? Please, look at me.” He was stunned at the amount of hurt that ended up being directed his way. “Oh Patrick, it’s not what you think at all. Please believe me.” When no reply was forthcoming, he added, “let’s go back up to the flat. I’ll explain.” 

There was no verbal reply but Patrick turned a bit and they walked back in and up. Inside, Brian sat down on the sofa and patted it. But the other did not sit. 

Resigned, Brian began to explain. He saw Patrick softening as he did so. “I’m very sorry I didn’t talk to you first before inviting her. Also, we should have discussed how and when to tell our friends--and possibly family.”

“I’d rather not ever tell my parents,” Patrick interjected. 

“I know.” He nodded. “I’m sorry. Do you forgive me?”

“You’re not leaving me for her?”

“Absolutely not.” He was very firm on this. 

Patrick finally sat down. “I was so angry when you brought her home. Then I was so scared because you seemed…looser with her than with me. More free?” He seemed unsure. “And being with me, a man, will never be easy. I thought you might have changed your mind.”

“I didn’t.” He reached out and brought Patrick’s larger frame to him and hugged him tight. “I like Rebecca. But I love you.” 

They both went completely still, like statues. 

“Do you?” Patrick finally asked in a small voice, sounding on the verge of tears.

“Yes. I love you.” Brian found himself being thoroughly kissed.

When they had separated for a breath, Patrick said, “I love you too, Brian.”

Suddenly feeling as if his heart might burst from joy, they kissed, again and again. After a brief frenzy of that, they cuddled down. 

“I suppose I should find a way to thank Rebecca now?”

Brian chuckled. “I think if you just give her some of those scones, she’ll be happy. She really liked them. So did I. In fact,” he wiggled free, to Patrick’s dismay, and brought the plate back, “I want another.”

“On the sofa?”

He looked at Patrick. “Just this once? For a special occasion. I promise to be careful. Look, I even brought a napkin.” He got a gleam in his eye. “Or,” he lifted a scone up, “perhaps I could eat this off _you_.”

Patrick was shocked, then looked at Brian’s smile. “If you like,” he waved a hand. 

Grinning, Brian put it back on the plate and then used his hands to unbutton the other man’s shirt. He pushed gently and Patrick lay down, shirt spread open. Brian retrieved the scone and broke it into pieces, scattering them across the man’s chest. He bent his head and licked them off his body. He would chew quickly and then press kisses until he reached the next piece. He could tell by Patrick’s accelerated breathing that he was enjoying it. When he reached the last piece, he heard a soft sound of disappointment from above. 

“You could always have another,” Patrick told him, his voice sounding slightly strangled. 

“I don’t think so.” He gave a wicked smile. “I think I want a different treat.” He moved further down and began to undo the trousers. Slowly freeing the trapped flesh within, he tugged downward but not off. He went to put his hand on Patrick but then an idea came to him. Glancing nervously upward, he swallowed hard. 

“Brian?” Patrick seemed to sense something amiss. 

“I’m going to try something. I might be rubbish, but…” He trailed off, determined to do this before he lost his nerve. 

“What are you--? Oh!” Patrick gasped very loudly as Brian lowered his head and took him into his mouth. “Oh God!”

“Bad?” He pulled off. 

“No, good. Very, very good!”

Smiling, which he had to stop because it made it much more difficult, he went back to what he had been doing. Taking that length into his mouth again, he had a brief moment to wonder what he was doing. Sucking off another man? Yet, he wanted to. He wanted to give Patrick that pleasure. He really did love him, he realized, had realized the moment the words came out. He wanted to show him with more than just his hands. He wasn’t ready for…more, yet, he thought. But this would be a physical way to show his love. 

He took him deeper, then started to gag a little. He heard a noise of concern and repositioned himself less awkwardly, then started to suck lightly. Another noise, this one he couldn’t identify. Brian looked up and saw Patrick’s eyes fluttering. His face looked, well, blissful. He abruptly wondered if Patrick would ever try this on him. Resuming his actions, he kept going until he felt a hand in his hair. 

“I’m going to climax,” he was told. 

Unable to respond verbally, Brian gripped Patrick’s hip tightly in response. A scant few seconds later, a hot liquid gushed into his mouth. He thought about pulling away but he took it. He debated for a moment but tried it, swallowing some--though some trickled out of his mouth. There was quite a lot. He sat up, coughing a little, dabbing at his mouth. Patrick struggled up and reached out to grab a box of tissues. He handed them over. Brian wiped his mouth. “How was it?”

“Utterly fantastic.” Patrick met his gaze. “But don’t take my word for it.” He gestured at Brian own tented trousers. “Your turn.”

“You don’t have to. This isn’t tit for tat.”

“Maybe I want to for me. For you. Because I’ve thought of doing this before. Wanted it.” His voice now husky, in its lower registers--which always made Brian shiver, so sexy--went on, “unless you object?”

“No objection here.” 

They maneuvered around on the sofa, undoing articles of clothing, removing others entirely. “I hope you don’t mind if I skip the scones.”

Brian laughed. “Not at all.” He lay back and looked at the man he loved. Who prowled closer, belying his big size. Those large hands slid down his chest, stopping to play with his nipples. But they were both too impatient for much foreplay. Soon he was parting Brian’s thighs tenderly and moving between them. A hot mouth lowered and Brian had to use all his willpower not to simply buck up to meet it. Fearing hurting Patrick, he clenched his hands into fists and pushed them into the cushions. It took a mortifyingly short time before he was coming as well, having prewarned Patrick by gasping out his name. 

Patrick swallowed as well, looking for all the world as if he were analyzing it. Perhaps he was, because shortly after sitting back on the couch he said, “that had a sweeter taste than I expected.”

“All those cupcakes,” Brian muttered, still limp with the afterglow. 

Patrick gave a weak laugh. 

They lay there, catching their breath. Then Brian sat up and moved forward, pulling his lover to him. He moved in for a kiss, only to be stopped. 

“I haven’t brushed my teeth!”

He smiled. “I don’t mind.” He waited and when there was no further protest, they kissed. He tasted himself on Patrick’s lips and loved it. Mostly because it was Patrick’s lips. He pulled away with a sigh. “I need a nap.”

The other man burst out laughing. “It _has_ been a rather busy day. Perhaps we should adjourn to the bedroom?”

“Too comfy,” he snuggled down. “Don’t wanna move.”

Patrick was silent, in surprise Brian thought, then let out a small laugh. “Or we could stay here.”

“Good idea.” He was drowsing already. 

He felt a hand cautiously run through his own sweaty hair. “Brian?”

He hummed a reply. 

“Can you…will you say it one more time?”

He tried to figure out what Patrick meant. It took him a minute but then he got it. “Love you,” he said sleepily. 

Arms tightened around him in a fierce hug. “Thank you. I love you too.” 

With those words echoing in his ears, he fell asleep. When he woke it was growing dark and he was alone on the couch. He got up, stumbled to the bathroom, came back and got dressed. He realized that the flat was empty again but this time didn’t panic. He sat down to read. Not long after the door opened and Patrick entered, carrying several take away bags. 

“You went to get supper?”

“Figured you might be hungry. Also, I didn’t want the doorbell ringing to wake you.”

Smiling at such sweetness and consideration, he got up and they went to the kitchen. He pressed a quick kiss to Patrick’s lips before sitting to eat. “Would it be all right if I invited Rebecca over for dinner one night?”

“Of course.”

“I just know how lonely dorm life can get and she is my friend.”

Patrick reached across the table and grabbed his hand. “I promise to behave better this time.”

He smiled. 

The next day, he went out hunting for her. He didn’t know what dorm she was going to be in and didn’t have a phone number for her on campus so he had to walk around, asking if anyone had seen her. Finally he found her. Knocking on her room door, he smiled when she answered. “This where the orgy is?”

“That’s next door,” she laughed. 

They talked. He explained and apologized for Patrick, telling her that his boyfriend wanted to say that himself as well. Then he invited her to dinner the next week. She accepted. He also handed her the uneaten scones--though he and Patrick had kept several for themselves. 

“You look happy,” she said as he was getting up to leave. 

He stopped, surprised. Looking at her, he admitted--both to her and himself, “I am happy.” He walked out, whistling. 

Two nights later, he came home from work early. Patrick was typing away and looked up, startled. 

“Brian! What are you doing home so early?”

“I quit my job tonight. I had intended to give two weeks’ notice last week but forgot. So tonight I just said I had to quit because school was starting back up. Jimmy was so pissed he told me to get out.” 

Patrick looked at him, obviously unsure what to say. “Is this a good thing?”

“Well, it means I can get back to a regular schedule of sleep again. But it also means we can’t follow through on my plan.”

“What plan is that?”

“The one where I take you up to the roof again and blow you on my last night.”

Patrick had been in the act of typing again. His fingers smashed down and the keys made a jangled noise. He sat there for a moment and then turned. “I see.”

“But,” Brian held up a finger, “I have an alternative plan.”

“Do you?” 

“Yes. This building has a roof. I bet we can get access to it.” 

“More than likely, yes.”

“We could take some food up, have a rooftop picnic.” He paused for effect then added, “and I could blow you.”

“I never knew you had an exhibitionist streak.” Patrick sounded like he was trying to remain calm. 

“We’ll figure out a way no one can see us. So, are you game?”

“I suppose so.” Patrick started to stand. 

“I need a few minutes. You can go ahead and untangled your keys,” he nodded. 

Patrick looked down, made a face, and then sat again. “Do you need me to do anything?”

“It’s fine.” He headed off. When he reappeared about 10 minutes later, Patrick was fiddling with things. Rearranging and wiping imaginary dust with his fingers. “Ready?”

The other man jumped a little then nodded. Brian was carrying a hamper and a blanket. He handed the blanket to Patrick and led him out the door. They went past the stairs to a door marked ‘roof access’. Brian pushed it open. He led him up. They emerged at the top, the roof looking quite clean. There was light from nearby windows as they arranged the blankets. 

Brian opened the hamper and pulled out two candles in stands. He lit them and placed them nearby. Then he brought out the food. It was all from his restaurant, stuff he’d grabbed before his last shift. They ate, though Patrick kept giving him little looks in-between glancing around. Finally, he set his container aside and moved closer. Cupping Patrick’s face, he leaned in and kissed him. Reaching down with his other hand, he began to undo his boyfriend’s trousers. Only to feel him go rigid, and not in a good way. 

“What?” He asked, pulling back. 

“I’m sorry,” Patrick whispered. “I just can’t. I feel like too many people are watching us.”

Disappointed but understanding, Brian nodded. “It’s all right.”

“Is it?” Patrick sounded upset. 

Brian looked at him. “Yes, love. I’m the one who should apologize. I knew you wouldn’t be comfortable. I shouldn’t have pressed.”

“No, I should--” He was cut off by a kiss. 

“It’s fine, really. Patrick, I never want to make you do something you aren’t comfortable with. I want you to feel safe telling me your limits, letting me know when you aren’t at ease. All right?”

“All right.” Patrick still sounded down though. 

Brian touched his face and then gentle tugged him down to the blanket. They looked up at the stars, hands entwined. “Tell me about the constellations.”

“What?”

“The constellations. Tell me about them. Please?”


	7. Chapter 7

After a brief moment, Patrick began to pontificate. Brian let the words wash over him, listening and just relaxing. He realized that the talking had stopped. He turned his head. 

“Boring you, am I?” Patrick sounded trepidations. 

“Not at all.” He leaned in and kissed him tenderly. “You should narrate audio books. Or be on Radio. I love your voice.”

Patrick blushed a little, stammered. 

Brian kissed him again. They lay there for some time, just enjoying the cool night, kissing sporadically. Finally, they got up and headed back downstairs. They each separated to get ready for bed. When they had climbed in, Patrick spoke up. 

“Brian?”

“Yes?”

“Did you want…?” Patrick’s voice trailed off uncertainly. 

He turned and saw the man trying to curl in on himself. He quickly reached out and pulled him in, kissing him sweetly, then holding him. “I do but understand that it’s not a requirement. If we don’t have sex tonight that won’t make me love you any less, Patrick.”

“I know that,” came the much-too-quick reply. 

“You don’t owe me or anything.”

“If I wanted you to?”

“Then all you have to do is say, love.” Brian’s voice was soft. 

“I want you to. I want you.” He gulped a little and went on. “I want your mouth on me. Please.”

“How can I resist such a lovely request?” Brian soothingly said, pushing him slowly back down to the bed. He slithered down and began to pull down Patrick’s pajama bottoms. He was not wearing pants under and his cock, half hard, sprang free. Brian felt himself hardening in his own bottoms. 

“I don’t think I’ve told you,” he said conversationally, “how pretty you are.”

“Women are pretty,” Patrick protested. 

Smiling, Brian lowered his face and licked delicately at the hot flesh. “I was talking about this,” he gestured. “Though your face is gorgeous too. As well as the rest of you.” Reaching around, he gripped that lovely arse. “Especially this.”

Patrick squeaked and then laughed helplessly. “I don’t know how you do that.”

“Do what?” He asked then bent to press kisses along the side of the shaft. 

“Turn me on and make me laugh at the same time.”

Pulling back enough to speak, Brian said, “it’s a gift.” Resuming his ministrations, he licked a long stripe up, feeling a thrill when Patrick whimpered. He put a hand on a hip bone, to keep him in place, and took him fully into his mouth. 

A loud gasp from above let him know that it was pleasing. He began to suck, letting instinct guide him as it did last time. However, this time he also let his hands roam. He petted the inside of Patrick’s milky white thighs, then let the hand on hip fall down to play with his balls. 

“I--I’m not going to last.”

Unwilling to remove himself, Brian did not reply but redoubled his sucking. 

“Brian. Brian!” The name was being called louder and louder. “Oh God, Brian, I love you!” 

Letting go of his testicles, Brian reached both hands under Patrick’s lovely arse and tilted him up, taking him deep. He swallowed twice in quick succession and that got him a garbled shout, that led right into an orgasm. He waited until it was finished and pulled away, wiping at his mouth. He got up and went to get some tissues from the bathroom, as well as rinse his mouth quickly. 

He got back and found Patrick, pj‘s pulled up, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Patrick?”

The man just held out his arms and Brian stepped right into them. Patrick pressed the side of his face into Brian’s belly and took a deep breath. 

“You don’t have to,” Brian said, running a hand through those silken locks. 

“I want to. Lie down?”

He did so, watching Patrick crawl between his legs and slip the bottoms down to free him. Like his boyfriend, he wasn’t wearing pants either. Hands touched him, made him erect. Patrick had such soft hands, for a mechanical engineering student. Then a hot mouth covered him and he was lost in a sea of feeling. When he felt his impending orgasm building, he let Patrick know. The other man did not stop. In fact, he redoubled his efforts. It didn’t take long and Brian was coming. He watched Patrick swallow and then get up and head for the bathroom. His lover always liked to rinse with mouthwash right after. He returned as Brian was settling back down after putting himself to rights. 

They settled down, kissing good night. 

The next few weeks were a flurry of activity, getting reading for the new term of school. Brian was happy he’d quit his job as he was so busy getting his class materials, prepping and he definitely needed new shoes. His old ones were spattered from the kitchen. Patrick, on the other hand, was calm and collected. He was to start his final year of Post Grad work now and this had become old hat to him. 

The morning classes started for both of them, they had Patrick’s omelets for breakfast then walked together toward campus. As they were in separate areas of the school, they had to part too soon. Being in public all they could do was smile at each other, not hug or kiss. They had talked about meeting up for lunch but their schedules wouldn’t allow it. Instead, Brian planned to have lunch with Rebecca, if he could find her. She had come over--though not yet for supper, she had said she was too busy getting ready for school, perhaps after the term had started?--once last week. Patrick had been very nice to her, but mostly Brian and she had talked. 

He hurried off to his first class, glancing at the new students and remembering last year. This time, he smiled, he would not be late. 

His first day went well. His Professors seemed nice and several students had treated him okay. He’d briefly seen Rebecca but she was spending her lunch protesting nuclear arms. Not wanting to spend his lunch hour chanting, he had excused himself and gone to eat in the caf. He briefly wondered what Patrick was doing. He shook his head. He had it bad. 

When his day was over he stopped and got takeaway, then headed home. Letting himself in, he stashed the food and settled down to start his homework. Luckily, to start, it was just reading. He was underlining passages when the door opened. 

“Brian?”

“Here.” 

Patrick came in, carrying a bag. “I thought we’d have takeaway.” He stopped when he saw Brian smiling. “What?” 

Brian saw him turn as he followed his gaze. And then smiled ruefully.

“I see.”

“It’s not a bad thing. This way we have options. And leftovers.” He got up and nudged Patrick, who smiled. 

“You always make me smile.”

Happy, they dug in. Brian had gotten Chinese, Patrick had gotten fish and chips. They mixed and matched and talked about their first day. 

Three days later, Brian was crossing through the quad when he stopped dead. Out of the corner of his eye he had spotted something on the bulletin board. He walked over, in a daze, to it. His hand reached up and then pulled back as he touched it, as if burned. He went to class but barely heard a word. 

That evening, he went home and waited. Patrick had a late class on Thursdays and had told Brian to eat without him. He had picked at the food he’d made then put it away and sat down on the sofa. 

Patrick entered at last. He bustled around a bit, hanging his jacket up and talking about his day. Then he seemed to notice Brian’s behavior. “Brian?”

Determined to be calm, an adult, about this, he turned. “So how did it go?”

“Class? It--”

“Not class. Tryouts. Are you Captain again?”

Patrick stopped, putting his hands on hips. “What are you talking about?”

“I saw the poster. I know they are getting the Quiz group ready again. Tryouts were today. You must have made the team. Are you Captain once more?” He asked again. His heart felt as if it were shredding a little but he knew he could never, would never, do the Quiz again. Still, it hurt him a little to think of Patrick doing it without him. He was so busy thinking these thoughts that he missed the dawning expression on his boyfriend’s face. 

Patrick sat down and took his hands. “Brian. I didn’t try out.”

“What? Why not? They might not make you Captain again but surely--”

“You aren’t doing the team this year.”

“No.” They’d talked, very briefly, about it at one point. Brian had told him that there was no way. 

“I don’t want to if you’re not.”

“I don’t want you to hold back just because of me. I know what the Quiz means to you.”

“ _Used_ to mean to me,” Patrick corrected him. “So it’s on television. It’s just a quiz.”

Brian gaped at him. “Who are you and what have you done with Patrick Watts?”

Patrick laughed a little. “I assure you, I’m still me. But I’m not interested in that anymore. It never seems to work out for me, anyway,” he cut his eyes away, face growing a bit sad. 

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I have better things to do with my time. Besides, what fun would it be without you?”

“You’re really not?” Brian could hardly believe it. 

“I’m really not. Unless you want to?”

“No,” he shook his head. 

“Then neither of us will. Luck to those who make the team this year but we’ll watch from the sidelines, shall we?”

Brian felt something in him rise up. It must have spilled out of his eyes because Patrick’s whole face softened. They leaned in, mouths meeting in a soft kiss. “I love you,” he whispered. 

“I love you too,” Patrick replied. They exchanged lazy kisses, staying on the couch even when their stomachs began to growl, unwilling to give up their affectionate poses. At last, they stood and went to eat. Brian half thought of blowing Patrick as thank you but Patrick seemed to read his mind and drew him to the couch instead. They cuddled there, watching a film on the VCR. 

The next night they had their usual Friday ’date’ night. Despite living together for months, they kept that tradition up. They had missed it only once--when Patrick had come down with a 24 hour bug. 

September passed. They had Rebecca over for supper at last, Brian surprised at how his best friend and his boyfriend got along. He thought they would clash, instead they got into deep discussions about philosophy and other matters. He sat and watched them argue over sophistry, eating the last of the garlic bread. When she left that night, he smiled at Patrick. “Should I be jealous?”

The other man crowded him against the door. “Not at all.” He was thoroughly kissed, then taken to bed. As they lay there, drowsing, afterward, he came to realize that he could move his hand much easier through Patrick’s hair. He had known that his lover was now putting much less product in his hair now, letting those waves (or curls, depending on how long it got), move freer. He had a suspicion that Patrick was doing it because of Brian’s penchant for playing with his hair. After he had gotten his hand stuck in those locks one night, he had noticed less product. 

October came and campus began to gear up for Halloween. Parties were planned, costumes were talked about. One afternoon, Rebecca was hanging out with Brian between classes. “You and Patrick should come,” she said, taking a sip of her water. 

“We’re not really party people.”

“I know. But you never go out. Plus, it’s fancy dress. It will be fun.”

“You, of all people, advocating--”

“C’mon. My roommate is a good person. It won’t get too rowdy. And no Spencer to hit your guy.”

Brian laughed, helplessly. “That is a plus. I’ll talk to Patrick, all right?”

“You could pick each other’s costumes,” she suggested. “Or do a couple theme!”

Brian shook his head and stole her water, taking a drink to her loud “hey!” “I told you, I’ll ask Patrick.”

She rolled her eyes. “That means no. Ah well,” she got up. “You know where it is if you want to come.”

He nodded and watched her walk away. He had to admit, he kind of wanted to go. Not that he so much wanted to party but the idea of fancy dress appealed to him. Particularly as his thoughts wandered to whom Patrick might dress as. He walked home. Told his boyfriend about the party and how Rebecca had invited them. He watched Patrick carefully set his cutlery down. 

“You want to go?”

“Wouldn’t mind,” he said, with a shrug. 

“The last party we went to--” Patrick cut himself off. 

“I know. But Spencer won’t be there. And Rebecca said her roommate is a nice person. It will probably be a small group, actually.” He tried not to push. 

“You do want to.” 

“I…Patrick, I’m not going to lie. Yes. I rather like the thought of you in fancy dress.”

Patrick’s eyes went wide then he blushed. “Really?”

“Yes.” Pitching his voice lower, Brian added, “bet you’d look sexy.”

The blush got brighter. “And you? What would you go as?”

He mentioned Rebecca’s suggestion that they either pick costumes for each other, or do a couple theme. “Did you want to do that?”

“Actually, why don’t we each choose our own? Keep them secret until that night. As a surprise.”

Brian was startled but figured Patrick had his reasons. “All right. So we’ll go?”

“I suppose so.”

He leaned across the table and bussed him. “Great! I’m going to call Rebecca and tell her!” He jumped up and left an amused Patrick behind as he placed the call. She was thrilled. 

Black and orange appeared all over. Parties were happening well before the holiday. Pranks and tricks were played on unsuspecting students, and even a few teachers. Brian realized he’d missed most of the Halloween fun the year before as he’d been busy with Quiz. He came home one day to find a few tasteful decorations and a real skull around the apartment. Patrick informed him that he’d borrowed it from an anatomy major friend of his. They named the skull Edward. 

The day of the party arrived. He had his costume all set and thought, though he was not sure, that Patrick did as well. Luckily, Halloween was on a Saturday this year. Patrick had suggested that Brian go over to help Rebecca and her roommate prep for the party, and change their. Brian had, in fact, already taken his costume over. 

“I’ll see you later?”

“If you can figure out who I’m dressed as,” Patrick teased. 

“I think I’ll be able to figure it out.” Brian smiled, kissed his cheek, and left. He helped Rebecca and her roommate--a girl named Henrietta “Retta for short”, she had told them--get set up. Then he disappeared to change. He came back out, stopping when Rebecca burst out laughing. “What? What’s funny?” He began to feel insecure. “Do think it’s terrible?”

“No! I think you look great.” She came over, dressed as a nurse from the 1940’s. “Are you Bilbo or Frodo?”

“Bilbo, of course,” he said, affronted. “Can’t you tell?”

“With your hair, no.” She glanced down. “Barefoot?”

“Hobbits didn’t wear shoes.”

“No, but I hope you don’t step in anything.” She smiled. “Or get your feet stepped on.”

“I’ll be careful.” He reached into his pocket and pulled a plain gold ring out. “See, I came prepared.”

Her smile turned into a grin. “The Ring!”

He nodded. 

“And who is Patrick coming as? Gandalf?”

He explained that he didn’t know and wouldn’t until he saw the man at the party. Rebecca just shook her head. A few guests arrived early but most came later. Brian fidgeted every time someone came through the door. He had claimed a spot where he could watch it. A few times, big groups came in and he would scan them. No one he recognized. He wondered if he might not be able to tell who Patrick came as. He pushed the thought aside. His bladder called as he finished his cup. He went to take care of it and hurried back. There were more people. He decided to give up on the door and circulate around the party. He kept his eyes open. 

He was so busy looking around, however, that he ran into someone. “Sorry, I’m so sorry!” Luckily, he had no drink in his hand so he hadn’t spilled. “Are you--?” He stopped abruptly as he realized who he had collided with. “Alice,” he breathed her name. 

She looked just as startled as he was. “Brian!” She suddenly grabbed him and hugged him. “It’s been forever!”

“Yes, it has.” He had rather been hoping it would stay that way, he thought with a soupcon of bitterness. 

“How are you?”

He couldn’t believe this. She was just going to act like nothing had happened? “Fine. Yourself?” He didn’t know how else to play so he went with it. She began to tell him all about herself. He tuned her out a bit. Finally he realized that she had stopped talking and was looking expectantly at him. “Oh, um, that’s great!” It seemed to be the right thing, as she smiled. 

“Do you really think so? We weren’t sure how you would feel.”

We? Damn, he should have been paying more attention. “It’s good. Fine.”

“I’ll be sure to tell Spencer that you’re okay with us dating. Though, as you know, long distance relationships aren’t easy.”

She was dating Spencer? He absorbed the news with shock. “Is he here?” He asked abruptly. 

“No. Couldn’t make it,” she said sadly. “You’ll just have to keep me company!” She looped her arm in his. 

“Er, Alice, I don’t think I can.”

“Why?” Her expression got sly. “Brian! Do you have a date?!” She began to look around. “Who’s the lucky girl?”

He winced. Should he tell her? She would blab it everywhere, though, and he didn’t want that. He watched her turn back and opened his mouth. He honestly didn’t know what he was going to say. Luckily, just then a very familiar voice spoke from behind him. 

“Alice. How nice to see you again.”

He watched Alice’s eyes go wide and wondered what Patrick was wearing to get that reaction. He turned around to see. His mouth fell open. 

“Patrick?”

The man was wearing jeans, a tight white t-shirt, a leather bomber jacket, and aviator glasses. His hair was wavy and tousled. He looked like….

“Maverick!” Alice shouted behind him. “Patrick, you’re Tom Cruise from _Top Gun_? That’s terrific!” She stepped close. “I didn’t think you could pull this off,” she practically purred as she rubbed his leather jacket. 

Brian saw red. That was his man she was pawing. He wanted to yank her away, kiss Patrick right in front of everyone, claim him. Instead, he stood there and seethed. 

“Yes, that’s right. And you make a lovely Wonder Woman.” 

She was indeed dressed as the Princess of Paradise. “Thank you,” she flirted, getting closer. She seemed to remember that Brian was there. “And your costume, Brian. So…cute.”

“The Hobbit,” Patrick said, smiling at him. “Well met, Mr. Baggins.”

“First line of The Hobbit?” Brian asked abruptly.

“In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit,” Patrick quoted immediately. 

They grinned at each other. Alice suddenly squealed and they both jumped. “I love this song! One of you, dance with me, please?” She gave them puppy eyes. 

“I don’t really dance,” Patrick said.

“Me neither. Besides,” Brian said, having had enough of this, “we were just leaving.”

“You were? Why? Brian, the night is young!”

He didn’t pay any attention to her, keeping his eyes on Patrick. Who was staring back. Their world had narrowed down to just them. Brian licked his lips and watched Patrick swallow. They both turned and headed for the door. 

“Brian!” Alice called.

He stopped when he saw Rebecca on the side talking to one of the guys she protested with. She saw her smile and nod and smiled back. Then he followed Patrick out of there. They left the dorm in silence, until they got down to the alley. Then Brian couldn’t take it anymore. After a quick glance, he pushed Patrick to the wall and kissed him, hard. “God, you look sexy!”

“Glad you approve of my choice of costume,” Patrick said as Brian kissed his neck. 

“I really do.” He sucked a quick bite under his lover’s collar and then pulled back. “Home. Now.”

“That’s a difficult thing to accomplish, ah!” He arched under questing fingers. “Especially if you won’t let go of me.”

Brian took a deep breath and stepped back. He was hard as a rock, turned on as all get out. He tried to rein it in. “Right. Right. I can do this.” He started to lean back in to kiss those beautiful lips and made himself stop. “Let’s go.” He turned and stopped a few steps later. Patrick was still pressed against that wall. “Patrick?”

“Yes.” The man followed, catching up and grabbing his hand. 

Not caring that people were seeing, Brian held on as they hurried back to their place. They passed trick or treaters, partiers in fancy dress, and several drunks throwing up in the street. A gaggle of giggling girls passed by, all wearing very short costumes. Brian barely noticed them. They finally made it to their apartment building. He noticed that there was a smashed pumpkin all over the front sidewalk. He stepped right over it and started up the stairs, glancing back to look at Patrick. Who looked just as flushed and flustered, and just as turned on. At least from what Brian could see. Those glasses shaded a lot.


	8. Chapter 8

They made their way inside, Brian heading straight for the bedroom. When they reached it, he flicked on the light and began to shed his clothes quickly. He saw Patrick start to do the same and stopped, crossing over. 

“No,” he said, grabbing the other man’s hands.

“You don’t want me to undress?” Patrick sounded confused. 

“I **do** want that. I just,” he felt foolish as he admitted it, “want you to leave the jacket on.” He looked down. Then his head was tipped up. He saw that Patrick had removed his eyewear. 

“You like it that much?”

“It’s very sexy.” He saw a frown and realized what Patrick was thinking. “Oh, love,” he said, reaching up to touch his face. “I’m not saying you aren’t normally sexy. It’s just this,” he gestured to the get up, “shows off your body in a completely different way.” He spread his hands over Patrick’s chest, caressing through the thin fabric. “Love your body,” he growled low in his throat as he lowered his hands and pushed them under the shirt. Touching naked flesh, he spread his hands wide, enjoying the feel. “You’re so fit. Deceptively so.” He leaned in and kissed him, letting Patrick know with actions how he felt. 

They stayed there, kissing, for a while. Then Brian began to maneuver him back toward the bed. 

“My clothing,” Patrick protested. 

“Don’t worry. I’ve plans.” He pushed and Patrick went down, bouncing a little. He crawled on the bed with him and moved down, unbuttoning those jeans. Luckily, they had obeyed the ‘shoes off’ edict--it had become second nature to Brian now--when entering, so he was able to slip them off fairly easily. Clad now only in the white t-shirt, the jacket and pants, Patrick lay on the bed looking up at a fully naked Brian. 

“What do you intend to do with me now?” He asked, voice deep and coy. 

“What do think I should do with you?”

Patrick pretended to think. “Touch me. Please.”

“Since you asked so nicely…” He ran his hands over his lover’s belly, then lower. Skirting his erection, Brian passed his hands over soft thighs, down to knees and back up again. He pushed the shirt up and bent his head, kissing at that large expanse of chest. He heard a soft sigh from above and smiled against skin. He pulled back a bit and pushed at the jacket. Patrick lifted up and slid it off, then Brian pulled the t-shirt off. Blushing slightly, he then helped Patrick put the leather jacket back on his naked torso. 

A soft laugh. “You do like this.”

“I told you,” Brian kissed his mouth, “it’s a very sexy look for you.” He dove back in, plundering Patrick’s mouth. As their tongues wrestled in each other’s mouths, Brian used his hands to tug off and toss aside Patrick’s pants. Now the man was naked, except for the jacket. Pulling free of lips--that chased after him--he sat back and looked his fill. “You’re gorgeous,” he whispered.

Patrick’s cheeks flushed. “You’re a bit biased.”

“I am,” he freely admitted, bending down and kissing the man again. He twined his arms around Patrick’s back, against the fabric of the jacket. He brought their bodies together, touching in every way they could. He grinned at the gasp that induced. Their bodies wrapped around each other, legs interlacing, as their hips began to thrust. Too overcome with lust to use hands or even his mouth, Brian rode the waves of passion until they crashed on the shore. 

As they came down from their orgasms, pulling sticky bodies apart, Brian gripped Patrick’s hand tightly. He saw his bed mate grow concerned. 

“Brian?”

“Sorry,” he let go a bit but did not release the hand completely. 

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

He knew better than to say “nothing”. He opted for the truth. “At the party…,” he trailed off, not sure how to say it. 

“Seeing Alice again?” Patrick guessed. 

“No. I mean, yeah a little. Weird, right?” He squeezed the hand in his and made himself relax his fingers. “It was more--” he cut himself off. 

“What?” Patrick sat up, still naked save for the jacket. Their seed on his belly yet, hair tousled. He looked lovely, except for his expression of concern. “Brian?”

“It bothered me, not being able to tell people you were my date. Not being able to tell them we’re together.”

“We could have. If we wanted to get beaten up,” Patrick said, very matter of factly. 

Brian let out the ghost of a chuckle. “I suppose so. I just hate having to hide. I hate that I can’t tell people, show off my handsome boyfriend.” He saw Patrick duck his head, embarrassed by either the compliment or the term boyfriend, he wasn’t sure which. “And I especially wanted to tell Alice to keep her hands off.”

“You think I didn’t want to do the same thing? Watching her flirt with you?”

Brian reached out and cupped the other man’s face. “I didn’t even notice her once you appeared.”

Patrick smiled. “Flattery will get you everywhere, Mr. Jackson.”

“Even into your bed?”

“You’re already there, I hasten to point out.”

Laughing, Brian nodded. “So I am. No place I’d rather be.”

“Seriously?” Patrick coughed and lowered his voice to its usual register. “Seriously?”

Brian smiled. “Seriously.” He pulled the warm body to his own and nuzzled in at Patrick’s neck. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” came the instant reply. 

They would have lain there all night but the stickiness was becoming uncomfortable. Eventually they went to shower, then climbed back into bed. 

“Good Halloween?” Brian asked him, popped a sweet in his mouth. 

“The best. Complete with a treat.”

Brian laughed and pulled him in closer. “We almost had a trick. This was better.”

“Much,” Patrick agreed as he settled down. They kissed good night and fell asleep. 

The next morning, campus was slow to wake as everyone was working off their after-Halloween hangovers. As the party had been on a Saturday night, many missed church, though. Brian and Patrick had their usual lie in, having more of a brunch than breakfast repast. They puttered around the house all day, exchanging sweet kisses on occasion. Brian did notice that Patrick had very carefully wrapped up the “Top Gun” jacket and put it in the closet. 

It was the next day when he ran into Rebecca. 

“How’d the rest of the night go?” He asked her as they fell in step together. 

“Noisy. And there’s still a guy sleeping in Retta’s tub.” 

“She can wake him up at Christmas.”

They laughed together. Then Rebecca sobered. “Did I see you talking to Alice last night?”

“Yeah.” Brian lost his mirth pretty quickly. 

“How’d that go?”

“Fine, I guess.” He looked at her. “Until my boyfriend showed up looking hotter than hell.”

Rebecca smiled. “I did notice you rather dragging him off. Have fun?”

“A lot, yeah.” He’d never told her any details of their life in bed and wasn’t about to start now. 

“I’m glad,” was all she said back. They’d reached their class now and went in, ending the conversation. 

Halloween was left behind, the days getting colder. As it neared the end of November, Brian snuggled more and more with Patrick, telling him it was to ‘conserve heat’. Patrick assured him that he did not have to use such a flimsy excuse for “cuddles”. Brian just smiled and hugged closer. It was all very cozy, in every sense of the word. 

Of course it had to be shattered. 

One evening, as December dawned, Brian was home but Patrick was not. The latter had gone out to pick up supplies for cupcakes, at Brian’s request. The phone rang. Brian answered it, without a thought. He’d long since grown used to this being ‘their’ apartment. After all, he did live here now. 

“Hello?” There was a long pause. “Hello?” He asked again, a bit louder this time.

“Hello?” Asked a very unsure female voice. Older, by the sound of it. 

“Can I help you, love? Who are you trying to call?”

Another pause. “I am trying to reach Patrick Watts.” It came out very clipped. 

“Ah, yeah, this is his phone. He’s out right now. Want to leave a message?”

“Who are you?” The voice demanded to know. 

“Who are _you_?”

A splutter. “I don’t think I should have to tell you that.”

“Your choice.” He started to put the phone down, when there was a loud squawk in his ear. He lifted it back up. 

“I don’t know who you are, you young ruffian, but you’ll get my son on the phone right this instant if you know what’s good for you!”

“Your son?” He almost fell over in shock. “You’re Patrick’s mother?!”

“Of course! Tell me your name, young man!”

He was still standing there, gaping, when the door opened. Patrick came in, carrying a bag and smiling. That stopped as he caught sight of Brian. Bag put down, the taller man strode across the room. 

“Brian?”

He simply held out the phone and said, “your mother.”

Patrick’s eyes went wide and he took it. “Mother?” He held the phone away from his ear as she shouted. 

Brian plainly heard--”who was that!” and decided he should give them room to talk. He grabbed the bag and took it to the kitchen but he could still hear snatches of the conversation. 

“I **did** tell you I had someone living here, Mother. It’s not my fault if you didn’t pay attention. No, he’s not a ruffian. Well, I expect you gave him grief when he answered the telephone.” A pause. “He does live here, Mother. He has the right to answer the phone.” A brief pause then, “I was out doing some shopping. Groceries, Mother.” A sigh. “Yes, Mother.”

Brian tried to tune them out but gave up quickly, too curious not to listen. 

“Yes. Yes, I remember. No. Mother, why would I want to--?” Another sigh. “No, I shan’t. Mother, you’ve asked and I’ve answered. You’ll just have to tell Father I said no.” Another pause. “Mother, guilt doesn’t work on me anymore. Nice try.” 

Brian smiled. 

“Bring my little friend?!” Patrick all but shouted in indignation.

The smile disappeared. 

A noise and then, “fine. Fine, I’ll ask him. I know what he’s going to say so prepare yourself. Goodbye Mother.” The sound of the phone clunking down made Brian realize he’d been standing there with a jar of frosting in his hand. He quickly turned around and pretending to be putting it away. He was pushing stuff around in the cabinet when Patrick came in, frowning. 

“I am sorry you had to deal with her.”

“She seemed…” He didn’t know how to finish that sentence. 

“Yes,” Patrick smiled, a little ruefully. “She is just that.”

“What did she want?” He couldn’t help the question.

“To invite me and,” here Patrick grimaced, “my little friend to spend Christmas at the chateau.”

“You have a chateau? Of course you do,” he muttered to himself. “You don’t want to go?”

“I did mention that my family and I don’t get on, I believe.” Patrick’s voice was wry. 

“Your mother seemed adamant.”

“She gets this way every once in a while. I think her friends begin to speak about their children and how well they get on—a total lie, of course—and she feels as if we should suddenly be friends.”

“I see.” He didn’t, really, but didn’t know what else to say. Instead, he turned the conversation to other things. Still, for the rest of the night, Patrick was obviously on edge. When they went to bed that night, he kissed Brian distractedly and settled down with a deep sigh. Brian stayed up for a bit to read then nestled down, gingerly wrapping his arms around the stiff body. He pressed a kiss to the shoulder and ran his fingers through that soft hair. He wished he could make it better but didn’t know how. 

The next evening, Patrick was sitting at his typewriter, Brian writing a paper, when the telephone rang again. Calls were pretty rare but not unexpected. They both stilled as it kept ringing. Patrick wasn’t getting up so Brian went to answer it. 

“Hello?”

A very long pause. “This is Mrs. Watts,” a brittle voice said. 

“Hello, Mrs. Watts.” He saw Patrick jerk at the name and turn in the chair, a strange expression on his face. “Did you want to speak to Patrick?”

“Actually, young man, I wished to speak with you.”

He nearly dropped the phone in his surprise. “Me? Why?”

“What is your name, young man?”

“Brian. Brian Jackson.”

“Well, Brian Jackson, you and my son are obviously friendly. I hope you can convince him to come to the chateau for Christmas holiday.”

He didn’t know what to say. “I believe he has already said no, ma’am.”

“You can come too, Mr. Jackson.” She sounded as if she were conferring a great favour on him. 

“Thank you for the invitation but—“ The phone was suddenly snatched out of his hand and Patrick was speaking into it. 

“Mother, I already said no. Trying to appeal to Brian—“ he was cut off by a stern voice. “Yes, I know that but—“cut off again. “Mother, please.” A deep sigh. “Very well. If Brian agrees.” Patrick covered the phone and looked at his lover. “She says she’ll not only pay for everything but that she truly wishes both of us to come.” He rolled his eyes. “I said I would come if you agreed.”

“You don’t want to go, right?”

“Correct.”

“Then no.” He admitted he was curious but if this was not what Patrick wanted then they weren’t going. 

“He said ‘no’, Mother. No, I will not try to change his mind. No, I won’t give the phone back to Brian so you can try. Good night, Mother.” He hung up. 

Brian put his arms around Patrick and pulled him close. 

“She won’t stop,” Patrick said, wearily.

“Stubbornness must run in the family.” He smiled to take the sting out.

“She’ll try and try and won’t stop until we give in. She might even try to bribe you.”

Brian raised an eyebrow. “What, by buying me an expensive watch or something?”

“More like a car. Or paying your tuition.”

He stopped. “Really? Wow. There’s a lady who wants to get her way.” He saw the concern on the other man’s face. “Patrick, she could offer me all the money in the world to get you to go. But if it’s not something you want, it’s not going to happen.” He punctuated the last three words with a kiss to each one. 

“All right.” He sounded resigned. 

“Come to bed, love.” He took Patrick’s hand and started drawing him to their room. 

“My paper—“

“You can finish it later.” He smiled his best come hither smile. “Much, much later.” 

Patrick’s lips creased into a smile. He followed willingly. They made love tenderly, hips moving against each other in agonizing slowness. Brian kept stopping to kiss and to caress, letting his body show his love and caring. Patrick answered in kind. When they had finally reached the heights and come back down again, Brian felt Patrick put his sweaty curls against his chest, rubbing slightly. He ran his fingers through them. 

“I love you.” It came out as whisper.

“I love you too,” Patrick whispered back, instantly. 

Two days later, he was coming out of class when he spotted a black Bentley nearby. The driver was waiting there. He knew instantly, somehow, that it was her. He walked over to the car and leaned down by the window. “Mrs. Watts,” he greeted her politely. 

“Mr. Jackson,” she replied back. “You don’t have class for the next hour. Would you care to take a drive with me?”

“Does Patrick know you’re here? No, of course he doesn’t.” He answered his own question. “Thank you, but no. My answer won’t change unless his does.”

“Please. I should like to explain. All I ask is that you hear me out.”

“I’m sorry. No.” He began to straighten up, to walk away. But a hand touched his shoulder. He turned, startled. 

“Let her explain,” Patrick said, softly. “It’s all right, Brian.” He looked only at Brian, not at his mother or the driver. 

“Patrick—“ He was desperate to let him know that he hadn’t been consorting with the enemy, as it were. 

“It’s all right. Really.” He nodded, showing that he understood. “Mother,” he said, without moving his eyes from Brian, “if you could give my friend a lift?”

“Of course, Patrick dear.” The driver opened the door on the other side. 

“Are you sure?”

“At least here the lady out,” Patrick said, gesturing. “Only polite.”

Brian was unsure but he got in the car, watching the driver come around and then they moved off. He turned to see Patrick disappearing in the distance, as they drove off. He turned to Mrs. Watts. “All right. I guess I’m going to be listening.”

“I don’t know how much Patrick has told you about our family,” she began. She paused, obviously waiting for Brian to jump in. He didn’t. She finally went on. “We are not a close family, Mr. Jackson.”

He still said nothing. 

“I was recently reminded of my relationship with my son. I spoke to my husband and we felt, this Christmas, it would be a good time to renew bonds.”

“Some might say it’s too little too late, ma’am.”

“Yes.” She frowned and looked out the window. “Perhaps so. But might I not at least have a chance to make amends? I should like to. I know we will never be…dear to our son, nor he to us, but we might end up closer than we were.”

He nodded. “I can see why you would want that. Though, I’m puzzled, Mrs. Watts, about one point?”

“And what is that?”

“Why are you telling _me_ this rather than your son?”

“As I’ve said, we have a rather strained relationship. I do not think that Patrick would be comfortable hearing this from me, let alone believe me. That is why I have chosen you to be our go-between, as it were.”

“I thought I was a ruffian,” Brian couldn’t help but throw back in her face. 

She turned a little pink. “I am sorry for that, Mr. Jackson. I was merely surprised. I do apologize.”

He was startled and so said, “accepted,” without even thinking about it. 

“If you would talk to Patrick, make him see how much we actually want him there this year,” she entreated. “And yourself. I am sorry if it made it look unseemly before.”

He took a breath. “I can talk to him. But he has to make up his own mind.”

“Yes, of course.” She looked as if she had won. She had her driver take him back to the flat. 

He got out and leaned back down as she said his name. “Yes, Mrs. Watts?”

“Do please try your best.” It came out rather more an order than a request but then they were pulling away. 

He stared after her then shook his head and headed inside. He found Patrick baking, a dead giveaway. The man only baked when in a particularly good mood or a very bad one. Settling down at the table, Brian opened with, “she wants me to convince you to go.”

“I know.” Patrick didn’t even turn from his measuring. 

“She seems sincere.”

“She always does.” After a long pause, Patrick turned, not a bit of flour or other ingredient on his face or body. Not even on his apron. “You think I should go,” he said flatly. 

“I think you should do whatever you want to.” At Patrick’s stare, he added, “but she really does seem to want to reconnect. And it wouldn’t hurt to give her one more chance. I will be with you.”

Patrick put down his spoon. “All right. But only if you come with.”

Brian got up and crossed to him, wrapping his arms around his solid body. “I will. I promise. It won’t be so bad. We can spend a lot of time in our room,” he teased. 

Patrick smiled. “Oh yes?”

“Yeah.” They kissed and that led to some making out but Patrick shooed him away so he could finish the cupcakes. As they baked, the pair cuddled on the couch. Later, Patrick called his mother and informed him that yes, they would be going.


	9. Chapter 9

The next day, Brian told Rebecca about going to the chateau. She seemed skeptical but wished them luck. 

Winter break came. Patrick and Brian packed several bags—Patrick had gotten Brian a nice suitcase as an early Christmas present, to replace his old duffel—and headed downstairs. A car was waiting for them, to take them to the train station. From there they headed up into the mountains. When they got to their station, they were met again by another car and a driver, who took their bags and introduced himself as “Swain, sirs”, saying he was at their disposal for the time they were there. 

Patrick tried to ask about his parents but Swain did not reply. 

They drove up to the chateau, which was decked out for Christmas in a tasteful but very expensive way. They could see a lighted Christmas tree inside through a window. There didn’t seem to be other movement. 

“They must not be here yet,” Patrick mused. They got out, Swain helping them in with their bags. Mrs. Watts had sent a key to the place ‘just in case they reached it first’. Brian goggled as they entered. It was huge. He’d never seen opulence like this before. He realized he was gaping and turned bright red. 

Patrick smiled, a bit ruefully. “Not exactly known for their austerity, my parents.”

Brian realized that his boyfriend was embarrassed. He took Patrick’s hand. “It’s fine. Way better than any other place I’ve ever stayed. Well, except our place,” he added.

That made Patrick smile. Then he frowned. “I’m just surprised we’re here first.” He turned to question Swain but the man had left. Patrick looked around, as did Brian. Brian was the one who spotted it.

“Patrick,” he called as he headed over to a table. On top of it was a letter, addressed to Patrick. He had a bad feeling about this, which got worse as he watched his love open and read it. 

Patrick started to crumple the paper, anger written all over his face, then he stopped. He handed it over to Brian, saying “I’m going to see if Swain is still out there. If so, we’re going home.” He left the room. 

Brian read the letter. 

_Son,_

_I am sorry but very shortly after we arrived, your father was called back to town for an urgent business reason. I had to accompany him back, as there was a dinner he was going to have to attend and he could hardly do so without me! I was very much looking forward to spending this holiday with you and your little friend. You and Mr. Jackson can stay for as long as you like. The larder is fully stocked and everything else is prepared as well. Swain, who should have brought you up, can take you anywhere you wish to go._

_Happy Christmas, Patrick._

_Your Mother_

Reading the note, Brian felt several emotions warring. Anger at Mrs. Watts for making such a big deal about this and pulling out for something this trivial. Sadness for Patrick. And guilt for convincing his boyfriend to come here in the first place. He should have listed to him, known that Patrick knew his parents better than he did. He was stewing in a mix of negative emotion when Patrick returned. 

“Swain has gone. There’s a number for him near the door but he won’t have arrived back in town yet. When some time has passed I’ll call and have him come back and pick us up. If we hurry we might be able to catch the next train back to Bristol.”

“Right.” He was so ashamed he couldn’t even look at Patrick. They stood there, awkwardly in silence. Then it came bursting out of Brian. “I’m sorry!”

Patrick’s eyes narrowed. “Sorry? For what?”

“For getting you into this. I should have respected your judgement. Not have pushed. It’s my fault.” He turned, meeting his boyfriend’s eyes. “I’m really sorry, Patrick.”

A look of understanding came over the other man’s face and he quickly closed the distance between them. His hands came up and cupped Brian’s face. “No, Brian, no. You weren’t to know. You believed, and there’s no shame in that.”

“It makes me gullible.”

“Warm hearted, I would say.” Patrick smiled and his eyes were filled with affection. “It’s one of the things I love best about you.”

“I’m still sorry.”

“Then I forgive you.” Patrick kissed him sweetly. “I’ll show you when we get back.”

A thought came to Brian but he squashed it. But Patrick knew him too well. 

“What?”

“It’s just…we could stay.”

Patrick frowned. “Are you serious?”

“Your parents may be jerks but that doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy ourselves. We were planning on staying, after all. Packed and everything. We’ll have the whole place to ourselves.” He smiled, a bit mischievous. “We can be as loud and as free as we want to be.” He’d thought that they would have to be very circumspect around the Watts but now they had even more freedom than in their flat. The nearest neighbor was…well, not near. 

Patrick turned a becoming shade of pink. “Brian!”

“Think about it. The place to ourselves, no one in shouting distance. Christmas lights twinkling. We could get snowed in,” he mused.

“Mother did say the larder was full,” Patrick mused. 

“A crackling fire,” Brian continued seductively. “You and me and no one around.”

“You make a compelling argument,” Patrick admitted. 

“If you really don’t want to stay, I understand.” Brian was telling the truth. “But this might be even better.”

“Indeed.” Patrick pulled away. “All right. We’ll stay.”

He fought down a cheer and stepped close again, pulling his lover in for a hug. “Great.” 

They held each other for a bit then Patrick coughed and extracted himself. “Well, if we’re staying I guess we should get unpacked.”

Brian let him slip away, not wanting to press. “What room are we taking?”

“I don’t know what mother planned but I’ve always been fond of the green room, myself. She probably intended to put you in the red room.”

“Is that bad?” Brian had picked up his suitcase and was following Patrick through the house. 

“Not exactly. It’s just always a bit damp in there. It’s where she tends to put people she hopes will not stay.”

“Definitely not the red room, then.”

They stopped at a door that Patrick opened. Inside was a large bedroom, with a green motif, in various shades. There was quite a large bed, Brian noted as they went in. Opening the closet, Patrick let out a loud ‘tut’. “Seems no one removed the clothing from the last time Uncle Herbert stayed in here. He always was forgetting to pack, after Aunt Gemma died.”

Brian was too busy looking around the room to really hear him. ”This is amazing.”

“As I said, I’ve always liked this room best, of the bedrooms.”

“How many are there?” He was curious. 

“Five. The master bedroom and 4 others. This one, the red room, the yellow room, and the blue room.”

“The red room you’ve told me about,” Brian said, unzipping his suitcase. “What about the others?”

“The yellow room stinks of cigar and has for years. That used to be my Grandparents and my Grandfather smoked a cigar every morning. The blue room is fine but is right over the furnace and can get very hot, especially at night. No, this one is best.”

He thought about asking if Patrick wanted to stay in the master bedroom but figured that would be too weird, for both of them. They unpacked and then Patrick took him on a tour, showing him all the various rooms. They ended back in the spacious living room, with the fireplace and the Christmas tree there. There had been touches of Christmas all over, and when they had stopped in the kitchen they’d found a Christmas feast as well as the makings for eggnog in the fridge. 

Christmas, however, was several days away. Night was closing in. There was a television, though with rather shoddy reception. A telephone there was also and Patrick said there was another in the master bedroom. “In case my father got a call,” he added. 

They settled in, Patrick having brought a book to read. Brian had also brought some books but spent most of the rest of the night simply snuggling with his boyfriend. At last they went to bed. The big mattress was soft and they both sank into it as they got in. Without thinking, they assumed their old positions, after their good night kiss, Brian’s hand in Patrick’s hair. 

“Good night, Patrick.”

“Good night, Brian.”

They had briefly, both of them, thought of taking advantage of the empty house but they were tired from the trip and emotionally drained. They fell asleep. 

The next morning, Brian woke up to an empty bed. He stretched and got up. It was quite warm and he padded around in his pajamas, finding his way to the kitchen. Patrick was in there, making omelets, dressed for the day in his customary sweater. 

“Morning.”

Turning in surprise, Patrick bobbled the egg he was holding. “Morning. I was going to surprise you with breakfast in bed.” He sounded a little disappointed that Brian was up. 

“Sorry.”

“It’s all right. We’ve got many more mornings here, I’ll just try again.”

Brian sat down, a bit abashed. He watched Patrick move around with an ease that he, himself, did not feel in this place. They ate and talked about what to do. Patrick suggested going skiing but Brian was not too keen on the idea. A trip to town was also suggested, but Brian was lukewarm on that as well. 

“What do you want to do?” Patrick asked.

He refrained from the obvious answer. “Let’s go play in the snow.”

“Play in the snow?” Patrick repeated, perplexed. 

“Yes! C’mon, it’ll be fun. I promise.” He had stood up and now held his hand out. Patrick took it, a bit reluctantly, but still. They got up and bundled up to go outside. Brian led the way out. They tramped around the grounds, getting familiar with the area. It was not snowing right then but there was a fine powder on the ground. He packed a little bit of it in his gloves. “Perfect snowman making snow!”

“You want to make a snowman?” Patrick asked. 

“Have you ever?”

“Not that I can recall,” came the admission. 

He had thought as much. “Then we definitely have to do this.” He began to roll the base. 

“Isn’t this something children do?”

“Maybe. But who’s here to see? Why not let yourself be a child again?” He looked up, pausing in his act. He saw Patrick’s hesitation. “Or we could have a snowball fight,” he suggested, hefting the small sphere he had made in his hand. 

Patrick actually took a step back. “Snowman it is.”

Brian smiled. “C’mon. We start with the base.” They worked hard, grunting and starting to perspire, but eventually they had a nice rounded sphere for the bottom. He had Patrick work on the top while he rolled the middle. They kept going, until they had the whole body done. Brian stood, sweating under all his layers. “Nice job.”

Patrick blushed under the praise. “Does it look all right?”

“Just needs the final touches.” He turned to go back to the house. Patrick trailed behind. 

“What touches?”

“You’ve seen pictures, right? What does every snowman need?”

Patrick shrugged as they went into the kitchen. Brian rummaged around. 

“Ah ha!” He held up an unpeeled carrot. “His nose. We’ll need buttons for eyes. And do you have any coal?”

“No. But I have an idea!” Patrick hurried off. Brian waited. The man returned and held out his hands. In one were two black buttons, fairly large. In the other were a series of coins.

“That’s perfect!” And no one around to steal them, or even be tempted. They went back out and finished the snowman. “Only wish we had a hat for his head.”

“I’m afraid we’ve only bowler hats. My father’s,” Patrick added. 

“It will have to do. And do you have a scarf?”

Patrick ran back inside and returned with the items. They put them on the snowman and stepped back. “He looks great!”

“He does indeed,” Brian agreed, wrapping one arm around his boyfriend’s waist. He looked up. “Your first snowman. Good job.”

“It was fun,” Patrick said, sounding almost shocked. “But I am very cold.”

“Let’s go inside and have something warm for lunch and relax for the rest of the afternoon. You’ve earned it.”

They did just that, having hearty soup in the kitchen and then adjourning to the living room. They settled in, books on their laps. Patrick ended up falling asleep, unaccustomed to such physical activity apparently. Brian watched him, a smile on his face. 

An hour or so later, Patrick stirred. “Brian?”

“Over here.” He saw Patrick’s face turn and look at him, straightening up from under the Christmas tree. 

“What are you doing?”

“Putting a few presents out. I know Christmas is the day after tomorrow but I figured now was a good time, seeing as how you were sleeping.”

“Presents?”

“They are traditional this time of year,” he joked. 

“I know that.” Patrick had gotten up and come over. “Brian.”

“Yes, Patrick?”

“These are all for me.”

“Yep.”

“Did you really bring all these presents from home just for me?”

“I did.” Brian reached out and brought him close, kissing him sweetly. “I saved some of my job money, just for Christmas.”

Patrick was looking at the gifts again. “There’s something for ‘Mr. and Mrs. Watts’.”

“I figured it wouldn’t be polite not to have a little something for your parents, since they invited me and all. You can give it to them. Or we can just open it ourselves and enjoy.”

Patrick stared at him for a long moment then kissed him hard. “You…when I think of how terrible I was to you, it makes me sick.”

Brian smiled gently. “You’ve more than made up for it, love.” They kissed again, tenderly. He was considering ramping this up when Patrick’s stomach growled. He laughed, a bit helplessly, against his boyfriend’s mouth. Pulling back, he saw the pink of shame and shook his head. “Let’s get you fed.”

They went to the kitchen and got a bite to eat. While they were in there, Brian asked a few questions about Patrick’s childhood which led to some stories, and a reveal that there might be a photo album with pictures about the place. They went searching for it, becoming side tracked by items and memories. They broke off to go have supper, then resumed the search. As night drew on, they stopped.

“We’ll have to try again tomorrow.”

“Mother might have taken it with her at some point. Or thrown it away.”

“We’ll still look for it.” They got ready for bed, then climbed in. As they settled down, Brian realized they hadn’t had sex since arriving. He thought about initiating something but Patrick was already half asleep. He settled down and drifted off himself. The next morning, he woke to an empty bed but this time stayed where he was. 

Sure enough, not long after Patrick came in, with a tray full of food. “Good morning.”

“It certainly is now.” He patted the bed beside him. “Join me?”

Patrick did so, nicking some toast off the plate. He’d thought ahead and put an extra cup for coffee on there as well. They happily munched and lingered.

Brian giggled. 

“What?”

“You’ve jam on your face.” When Patrick reached up to get it, he pushed the hand aside and leaned close, licking delicately. He felt the shiver and moved over, letting his tongue trace that perfect mouth. 

“Wait, wait. The tray.” Patrick pushed away long enough to grab it and put it on the floor then they came back together, kissing wildly. 

Brian’s hands roved all over, pulling at cloth, desperate to get his lover naked again. He tugged and pulled until Patrick was gloriously nude. Meanwhile, he felt hands on his own body, removing bits of clothing. Luckily, it didn’t take long to get them both without clothing. Their bodies met, Brian letting out a loud gasp as he felt the heat of Patrick’s erection. He kissed him again and again, reveling in the noises that his darling was making. 

“Louder,” he prompted, pulling away enough to enunciate the word. “Let me really hear you. No one else is around,” he reminded Patrick. 

Patrick turned his face away, embarrassed, and yet he must have been pleased because his cock twitched.

“Please, love. I want to hear the sexy sounds you make. Fully throated,” he purred, nuzzling at said body part. 

Patrick let out a loud moan then a surprised squeak. 

Brian nuzzled him again. “That’s it,” he encouraged. “More; like that.” He lowered his head and took Patrick’s nipple into his mouth. That earned him a protracted groan. He tried it with the other one but that got a sucking in of breath. He moved down a bit and lapped at the salty skin of Patrick’s belly. Hands on the insides of his lover’s thighs, he licked at the head of the straining erection.

“Brian,” Patrick gasped the name out. 

“Tell me. Tell me what you want, love.”

“You.”

Touched, Brian smiled but spoke again. “What do you want me to do?” He clarified. 

Patrick flushed. 

“Please. I really want to hear you say it.”

“Suck me.” It was low but it was audible. 

Brian grinned. “Thank you.” Then he swooped down and wrapped his mouth around the dripping flesh. He almost choked as Patrick thrust upwards with a shout. Pleased, he smiled around his mouthful, and proceeded to suck. He marveled at the noises that were coming from the man under him. He’d have to send Mrs. Watts a thank you for backing out. This was turning out better than he had expected. 

Feeling the oncoming orgasm, he pressed his hands gingerly against Patrick’s hips, holding him in place, and sucked. That was all it took and Patrick was coming. Brian let go, stopping for one tantalizing lick, then moved up that prone body. He leaned in close. “Thank you,” he said again, pressing a kiss to Patrick’s jaw. 

“What about you?” Patrick roused himself from the afterglow. 

Brian looked down. He was still hard as a diamond. He reached out and took hold of Patrick’s hand, leading it downward. “This. Please.”

“You…you don’t want me to…?”

Brian smiled. “I’d love that but I’m about to pop. The first moment your mouth is on me, it’d be over.”

Patrick looked startled and then absurdly pleased. He wrapped his large hand around Brian’s cock and gave one swift stroke. 

Brian exhaled loudly. His breath started coming quicker and quicker as that hand worked him. He opened his eyes when Patrick closed the distance between them and kissed him hard. In the next instant, it was over and he was coming, arching up into that grasp. He came down from the high to find Patrick leaning over the side of the bed and pulling the tray back up. He began laughing. “Hungry?”

“Yes.” Patrick smiled as he crunched into more toast, which must have been cold by now. He offered half to Brian who took it. They ate a bit, then got up and cleaned up. Brian led his boyfriend to the kitchen—after stopping to put on some trousers—where they drank some juice and had some fruit to supplement breakfast. “Now that’s a good way to start a day. Especially Christmas Eve.”

“It was, wasn’t it?” Patrick looked contented. 

“We’ll have to try that again, before we have to head back to the city. I quite like hearing you make noise in bed.”

Patrick blushed a pretty color and coughed. “What shall we do today?”

“Besides what we’ve already done?” Brian smiled. 

“Yes. Cheeky boy.” He reached out and mock swatted at Brian’s face. 

“Do you have any traditions for Christmas Eve? Or the day?”

“Not really. When I was younger, Father always either hosted a boring party or we went to one. Either a relative’s or some important person’s.”

“And when you were older?”

“I stopped going. Spent my Christmas studying for the Quiz.” 

Brian reached out and stopped Patrick’s hands from picking at the fruit skin. “Well, no more of that,” he said.

“No,” Patrick agreed. “What about you? Traditions?”

“The usual.” He saw the perplexion and expanded, telling him some of the things that he and his Mum had done for Christmas after his Dad died, telling him some of what they did last Christmas when he was home. 

“I don’t know if Mother has any crackers.”

“It’s fine if not.” Pushing his empty tableware aside, he reached out and took Patrick’s hand. “The most important thing about the holiday is getting to spend it with the people you love.” That earned him a kiss.


	10. Chapter 10

Eventually they went back to looking for the photo album but halfheartedly at best. They both seemed to be waiting for evening to draw in. When night finally fell, after a light supper, they made their way to the living room. The lights on the tree glowed as Patrick went to their stereo and put on some Christmas music, then sat down with Brian. They listened, drifting in a dreamland, until Brian roused himself. 

“All right. One present on Christmas Eve. You get to pick.”

“I do?”

“Yes, you do.”

“What about you?”

“I would if there were presents for me.”

“Huh.” Patrick extracted himself and stood. He went over by the tree. “That’s something to be remedied then.”

Brian watched him leave the room and come back in shortly thereafter, carrying several presents in varying colored paper. They were all perfectly wrapped, of course. Precise, just like Patrick.

“Just one for tonight.”

“You sneak,” Brian laughed, getting up and crossing to him. “Put them under the tree, then, so I can make my choice.”

Patrick did so, arranging them carefully. He straightened up. “Well? Which one for you?”

Brian had been scanning the presents and also his love’s reactions. He pointed at a gift wrapped in gold. “That one, I think.”

“Of course,” Patrick said, trying to hide a pleased smile as he handed the gift over. 

“And you, Patrick? Which of the ones from me do you want to open?”

The taller man was studying them. He tilted his head and then pointed at one in bright green paper. “That one.”

“Good choice.” Well, they were all good choices, or so Brian hoped. He pulled it up and handed it to Patrick. They went back to the couch and sat down. “How do you want to do this? One at a time or both together?”

“Open yours first,” Patrick said firmly. “Please,” he added after a second. 

Brian smiled. “All right. Seems a shame to ruin this wonderful wrapping job, though.” He removed the ribbon tied around the package and slit the paper open. Inside was a plain white box. He opened that as well, lifting the lid. Inside was a book, old and slightly worn but otherwise in good condition. He lifted it up. 

“Conan Doyle,” he said with a smile. He pulled open the cover, his eyes going wide at what he saw. They flew up to meet Patrick’s, which were shining with pride and joy. “An original edition?”

“One of the first that collected his work,” Patrick nodded. “I was going to add a note but that would have decreased the value,” he added, a bit ruefully. 

“Oh Patrick,” he sighed and leaned in close, kissing him sweetly. “It’s wonderful. I love it. Thank you.”

“I’m glad. I wavered between several titles for you.”

“This one is perfect.” He set the book back in the box and then put it carefully aside. “Now open your present.”

Patrick looked down, surprised. He began to open it, taking care though Brian had not been so exact as his boyfriend in his wrapping. Paper came off at last and was moved out of the way. Patrick was now holding a large box, white like Brian’s. He opened it and parted the tissue paper hiding what was inside. 

“Do you like it?” Brian couldn’t stop himself from asking. 

“It’s lovely,” Patrick said, lifting the sweater from the box. He held it up to look at it then turning it around and held it up to his chest. “Looks like it fits.”

“It bloody well should. I checked your size before going to buy it.” Brian looked at him and licked his lips. “I knew that color would look brilliant on you.”

The sweater was the color of the blue sky in spring and it really did look wonderful against Patrick pale skin. Which was slightly pink in the face now but still lovely. 

“It’s so soft,” Patrick said, one hand caressing the fabric. 

“I know. I wanted it to be as comfy as could be.” He had reached out his own hand and was stroking the sweater, right over Patrick’s heart. 

“So thoughtful,” Patrick breathed.

Brian couldn’t stand it anymore. He closed the distance between them and kissed him. It lingered, moving between tenderness to passionate then back to tender again. They sat there on the couch, kissing and kissing, presents all forgotten. Until finally a clock began to gently chime. 

“Time for all good boys to go to bed,” Brian said, pulling away with regret. 

Patrick laughed. “To wait for Father Christmas?”

“Yes. He won’t bring you what you asked for if you’re not asleep.”

“I already have what I want.”

Brian had been getting up. He stopped, turned, and pulled Patrick up to him. Running a hand through that hair, he nuzzled that pale throat. “You are an absolute darling.”

They stayed there for a long minute then put their presents back under the tree. Patrick turned the music off while Brian shut the trees lights down. They held hands as they walked down the hall, separating only until they got back into bed. Patrick snuggled close, sighing in contentment. 

Brian petted his hair, closing his eyes in bliss. What a difference a year could make, he thought wonderingly. He drifted off in a cocoon of love and happiness. He woke in much the same way. Patrick was still in his arms, though making a slightly unhappy noise. It took a moment for Brian to realize that it was because his hand was no longer in his hair. He put his fingers back and smiled sleepily as Patrick made a noise like a happy kitten. He knew it was Christmas morning and they should get up but he was so happy right here he didn’t want to move. 

At last, Patrick began to stir. Lifting his head, he blinked open his eyes. “Good morning.”

“Good morning to you, love. Happy Christmas.”

“Happy Christmas,” Patrick said back, finally pulling free and yawning. 

“Breakfast first? Or presents?”

“What do you usually do?” Patrick asked, getting up and pulling on his robe. 

“When I was young, we opened presents first. Later, we often had breakfast first. So either is fine with me.”

“How hungry are you?”

“I can wait.”

Patrick smiled. “Presents first then.” He made a gesture toward the lav and raised an eyebrow. Brian had gotten up too and nodded, heading for the one in the next room over. When they were both done, they met up in the hallway and went to the living room. 

Brian sat down right on the floor, by the tree. Seeing Patrick’s hesitation, he patted the rug beside him. “This way we don’t have to keep getting up and down to get the presents.”

“We could take them all to the table,” Patrick pointed out but he sank gracefully down. 

“Here, why don’t you go ahead and open the one for your parents,” Brian said, handing it to him. 

Patrick shrugged and did so. Inside he found a very nice bottle of champagne. He laughed. 

“I told you we could get more use out of it,” Brian laughed with him. 

“Later.” Patrick set it aside and pushed the remaining three presents he’d brought out last night at Brian. “Pick one.”

He wavered between the three. Last night’s had been wrapped in gold. The remaining three were in red, silver and a cream color. He took the last one and pulled it to his lap. He removed the bow and set it aside, unwrapped carefully where once he would have torn into it. He discovered an expensive looking pen set once he got it off. “Oh Patrick,” he breathed. “This is too much.”

“Nonsense. You never ask what a gift costs, that’s just gauche. And I’m not about to tell you. Which means you have to accept it. Please?” He added. 

Brian really wanted them so he pretended to think and then nodded. “All right. Only because I love you,” he added.

“Cheeky.” Patrick leaned in and they kissed softly. 

“Now you.” There were 4 more presents around Patrick. 

That pretty mouth frowned in concentration as Patrick looked the packages over. Two were wrapped in winter scenes. One was wrapped in Santa decorated paper. The last was plain silver. He took hold of that one and began to open it. He let out a delighted laugh at what he found inside. “New cupcake pans!” He held them up. 

“I noticed yours were getting a bit worn. You know how I love your cupcakes. And I know how much you love making them. I figured you were due for a new set. The lady at the store said these were the best.” That he could afford, anyway. The best had costs 20 pounds more. 

“They’re wonderful, Brian. I can’t wait to try them out.”

“I’m looking forward to it.” He licked his lips, partly in anticipation of eating such yummy treats. Partly because Patrick just looked so happy and that made Brian want to kiss him. He turned his attention back to his own presents, of which he now had two left. The red and the silver. He grinned. “Silver for me too, I think.” He unwrapped it. 

“It’s silly,” Patrick started protesting as Brian lifted the cup out. “I just thought you could do with your own mug for tea. I saw it with your name on it and—“

Brian cut him off with a kiss. “It’s a delightful present. Something of my very own for our place. Thank you.”

“It’s only a mug,” Patrick muttered but was pink again and looked secretly pleased. 

Brian shook his head. Rather than argue, he gestured. 

“Are these two a set?” Patrick asked, gesturing to the winter scene wrapped gifts. 

“No. I just ran out of other kinds of paper so I had to do those in the same.”

Patrick nodded and pulled the smaller one of the two to him. He opened it. “Brian, they’re beautiful,” he said, awed. He held up the coasters. 

“I had them made by a friend. Well, Rebecca’s friend. He makes things specially, I guess? Anyway, I told him what I wanted and he did it. I wasn’t sure they were going to be ready in time.” He had been worried but luckily, two days before they left George had called and said they were ready. 

“They’re engraved.” Patrick ran slender fingers over his initials. 

“Yes. Do you like them?”

“Very much. They’re almost too gorgeous to use, though.”

“I’ll have to tell George that. He’s the one who made them.”

“Please do.” Patrick let his fingers linger a bit then put them back in the box and set it aside. He looked expectantly at Brian, who reached for the red wrapped gift. 

His last one. He opened it slowly. Brian glanced up to see Patrick fidgeting nervously. He shot him a reassuring look and then parted the paper. A brown box lay within. He lifted the lid. He blinked in confusion. Inside was a frame and within that was something it took him a minute to recognize. 

“Is this…?” He trailed off, lifting it carefully. 

“Yes. Your perfect paper that fetched up against my leg that day. The one I returned to you.”

The one that had reconnected them and had started them on the road to friends and then something more. It was a sloppy, sentimental gift and he loved it. He lifted his face to say so and saw Patrick’s expression had turned horrified. 

“I’m sorry! I should have gotten you something else, I—“

“What? No! I love it!” Brian abruptly realized he was crying and that was why Patrick was distraught. He thought he didn’t like his present. He moved across and gathered Patrick to him, muttering in his ear “happy tears”. 

“Oh? Oh!” They sat there, arms around each other, for a long moment. 

Then Brian reluctantly pulled back. He brought the frame back in front of him and touched it gingerly. “It’s terribly sweet and thoughtful of you.”

Patrick looked embarrassed but also happy. “It led to us.”

Swiping at his eyes as more tears trailed down his face, Brian caught his boyfriend’s hand. “Yes, it did.” He couldn’t say more through the lump in his throat. Finally, he cleared his throat. “You still have two more gifts to open, love.” Not that his could compete.

Patrick must have seen the worry. “I’m sure I’ll love them.” He took the other winter scene one and opened it. He laughed, in delight. “Brian!”

He grinned back. “What?”

Patrick held up the cassette tape of the soundtrack to Top Gun. “You know I can’t listen to this music without thinking of,” he paused and bit his lip, “that night.”

“Maybe that’s why I bought it.” He waggled his eyebrows. 

“Naughty boy.” It was said fondly. “What would you have done if we’d been opening these in front of my parents?”

“They wouldn’t have known what the tape meant. Though I would have tried harder not to cry. Now, c’mon, love. One more gift. Then we can have breakfast.”

The Santa wrapping paper was pulled off with care. Patrick pulled out a shiny new stopwatch. He looked puzzled. “What’s this for?”

“I know we don’t need it for the Quiz anymore. But I thought you might have other use for it. In cooking or other things.” He smiled shyly, which turned bigger the moment that Patrick got it.

“Oh!” Laughing helplessly, Patrick pulled him close and kissed him. “You are impudent, aren’t you? Another gift that would have been harmless to open in front of your parents but would have a double meaning,” he noted as well. 

“I’m a sneaky sod,” Brian agreed, leisurely kissing back. “Happy Christmas, darling.”

“Happy Christmas.” They sat there, just cuddling, until Brian’s stomach rumbled. They both burst out laughing. “I believe that means someone wishes to be fed.”

“Either that or there’s a small tiger in my tummy.”

“I find that highly unlikely.” Patrick fussily tidied up around the tree then stood smoothly. He helped Brian up and they headed for the kitchen. After eating they made their way back out to the living room, to watch the Queen’s speech and some other Christmas related shows. But mostly they just snuggled on the sofa and exchanged lazy kisses. The morning wore away. They had a late, light, luncheon. Patrick disappeared into the kitchen to fix Christmas dinner. Brian went off to take a shower and get dressed for the first time that day. He came out to the most wonderful smell. 

“Delicious,” he said as he came into the kitchen, heading for Patrick, who held up a hand. 

“Ah, ah, ah! You’ve just gotten cleaned up. I’m dirty.”

Brian grinned. 

“Behave, at least for now. Everything is cooking and nothing needs watching just now. I’m off to get cleaned up myself. No touching!” He warned. 

“Not even a taste?”

“You’ll get your fill shortly.” With a stern look, Patrick left the room. 

Brian was tempted to sneak a bit anyway but knew better. He stood in that kitchen for a bit then went back out to stare at his essay in the frame a bit more. Touched beyond words, he was gazing at it when Patrick reappeared. Now he was speechless for a different reason. 

Patrick had put on the Christmas sweater that he had gotten that morning. In pressed trousers, his hair wavy and free, he looked absolutely—

“Stunning,” Brian gasped up, almost dropped the frame. 

Patrick blushed. 

Brian got up and went to him, afraid to touch such perfection but needing to. He cupped those amazing cheekbones and brought him down for an enthusiastic kiss. When they pulled away from each other, they were both flushed. “You look magnificent.”

“You’re the one who bought the sweater.”

“You’re the one who fills it out so well,” he flirted, earning another blush. 

They kissed again but then Patrick pulled away reluctantly. “Supper,” he protested. 

“If we must, but only so we have energy for later. And because your cooking is so tasty,” he added. 

They made their way to the kitchen. Patrick checked a few things. “Good. We’ve time.”

“For?” He said, raising one eyebrow.

“Not that. To set the table.”

Brian turned to look at the little kitchen table. “Right.”

“Not that one,” Patrick stopped him and then led him through the kitchen. To the ornate dining room. The table was square and large. 

“You want to eat in here?” Brian was dubious. 

“I’ve had to sit here, in this room, before and endure Christmas dinner. Just once I’d like to enjoy it. With you.” He paused. “If you’d rather not—“

That was all Brian had to hear. “Where are we going to sit? Not at each end, I hope!”

“No. I couldn’t be that far away from you.”

“Not I from you.”

“Besides, it would make the passing quiet difficult,” Patrick joked shyly. 

Brian laughed. They decided to sit across from each other in the two chairs in the middle. Patrick brought out some tall candlestick holders and white candles to put in them. They got the dinner wear out. Brian went back into the kitchen but was shooed out. He went back to the dining room and sat down, placing his cloth napkin in his lap. He pulled it off when Patrick came in, carrying several items. 

“At least let me help!” He said, springing up. 

“I’ve got it. Though if you could take the gravy boat?”

He did so, helping him carry things out. It took three trips but eventually the table was set. Patrick had offered to pour some of his parents wine for Brian. But Brian had turned it down, knowing that his boyfriend didn’t drink much. Instead, they had water with their meal, which was plentiful. Brian figured they’d be living off leftovers for the remainder of their time here. 

He dug in heartily, moaning in appreciation at the food. “Excellent,” he mumbled around a mouthful of roast. 

“It isn’t bad,” Patrick admitted then laughed. 

They ate until they were both full. Finally Brian pushed his plate away. “I can’t eat any more.”

“Does that mean you don’t want dessert?” Patrick asked.

“I do but perhaps we could wait a bit?”

Patrick nodded. “That might work better, in fact.”

They got up, the two moving to clear the plates. They moved slowly, as they were both so full, but they worked well together, having had lots of practice. Patrick directed Brian around, to put things away. Soon they had it all put away, though there was an almighty stack of dishes in the sink now. 

“Should we tackle these?” Brian asked, gesturing at them.

“They can wait.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Who are you and what have you done with Patrick Watts?” He smiled to take the sting out. 

“I know that we’ll create more when we have dessert later. We’re best served by doing them tomorrow.”  
They adjourned back to the living room, where they put on Christmas music and plugged in the tree as the darkness drew in. It was snowing again, making it a picture postcard perfect scene. As Brian leaned in to Patrick’s torso, he let out a sigh of contentment. A strong arm wrapped around and settled him closer. He felt his eyes drift shut but did not let himself fall asleep. No matter how much he wanted to lay his head down in Patrick’s lap and do so. 

He made himself wake up, sitting and pulling away slightly. Patrick looked peaceful but not asleep either. Their eyes met and they both moved toward each other at the same time. They kissed, sweetly. It turned fiery until they both had to pull back. 

Brian stood and held out his hand. “Come to bed?”


	11. Chapter 11

“It’s not bedtime,” Patrick protested. 

“I’m not planning on sleeping. I would have you on this couch or even under the tree, love, but I’d much rather be with you in that large and lovely bed.” He was fairly sure that the red in those cheeks was from his words and not a reflection from the Christmas lights. 

Patrick took his hand and they headed back to the bedroom, music still going.

Flicking on the lights as they entered, the green fitting the holiday perfectly. He stepped close and ran his hands over that new sweater. “You look so sexy in this. I’m sorry to take it off you.”

“I’m not sexy without it?” Patrick smiled. 

“Oh yes.” He threw all words to the wind and rucked the sweater up. Patrick lifted his arms and it was pulled off. Normally he would have just tossed it willy-nilly but this time he carefully aimed for the chair, where it landed. Underneath, Patrick was wearing a crisp white button down shirt. He began to undo them, his hands were shaking. 

“Brian?” Larger ones caught his and held tight. 

“I love you. I love you so much.” It was meant to be a firm statement but came out more a hoarse whisper. 

“Oh Brian,” Patrick’s voice was full of emotion. “I do not doubt it. As I hope you don’t doubt my own feelings.”

“No.” He kept unbuttoning, leaning in to kiss those perfect lips. Without letting go, he slid the material down around Patrick’s shoulders, only to have it caught at the wrists. He’d forgotten to unbutton the cuffs. 

Patrick smiled. “Easily remedied.” He went to do it but Brian beat him there. 

Undoing the right wrist, he slipped the arm through, then brought the wrist up to his mouth. Kissing at the pulse point, he glanced up at Patrick, who looked spellbound. Dropping that hand, he moved over and repeated his actions on the other. Then he caught both hands and brought them up, kissing the palm of first one then the other. He brought those kissed palms up to his face and placed them on his cheeks, holding them there. 

They stood there, just meeting each other’s eyes, letting the love between them speak volumes. Patrick’s hand moved downward, to the bottom of Brian’s own top, pulling it up. Soon they were both naked from the waist up. They moved and embraced, naked skin touching. Brian let out a breathless sound. He could feel Patrick’s growing erection against his own body and knew the reverse was true. 

“Shoes off, darling,” he whispered, afraid to speak louder and break the spell. He stepped back and removed his own as Patrick took his own off. They had also both removed their socks, clad now in only their trousers. Brian stepped close and took Patrick’s hand, tugging him gently to the bed. When they got there, he directed, “lie down”. 

Patrick did, scooting back and up. Brian crawled onto the bed and up his love’s body. He kissed first his face, then his lips, then moved down to his throat. Sorely tempted to leave a mark there, he refrained, moving further down. As he lavished attention on Patrick’s well-muscled—deceptively so—chest, he felt the restless wiggling under him. Hands on Patrick’s hips, he stroked with his fingers at the skin right above trousers. Hips that bucked up as he took a tasty nipple into his mouth. And again when he repeated the action at the other one. He moved downward still, licking at the skin of that taut belly. 

A loud exhalation from above. 

“All right?” He asked. 

“Yes, oh yes!” 

He grinned against salty skin and moved his hands, beginning to undo the trousers. He sat up between Patrick’s legs and pulled, tugging them off. He dropped them off the side of the bed, turning his attention back to his love. Clad only now in pants, looking deliciously spread out before him. “Beautiful,” he murmured and bent his head, nuzzling against the erection straining within the cloth. 

“Brian!” Patrick gasped out the name. 

Hands caught the edge and slowly, torturously pulled. Pants followed trousers and Patrick was completely nude now. Letting his hands skim lightly over every bit of flesh he could touch, Brian shook his head. 

“What?” Patrick asked, curious. 

“How did I ever come to deserve you?”

Patrick let out a surprised laugh. “I think you’ve got that backwards, Brian. I’m the one who doesn’t deserve you. After how I treated you—“ He broke off, obviously ashamed. 

“I’ve told you,” he said, coming back up to look Patrick in the eyes, “you’ve more than made up for that.” They kissed tenderly. “Patrick?”

“Mmmm,” the other man hummed, eyes still closed from the kiss. 

“Er, do you think we might try something?”

Eyes opened. “Something new, you mean?”

“Yes. Only if you want to,” he hurried on. 

“I’ll need to know what it is, first,” he chastised gently. 

Brian swallowed hard. “I…I want to try.”

“Try what, Brian?” Patrick coaxed. 

He licked his lips and swallowed hard. “Making love. Fully.”

Patrick’s eyes went wide. “Do you mean…?”

“Yes, love.” He reached down and skated his fingers against the hardness. “I want this in me. Want you in me.”

Patrick’s eyes managed to widen even more. “Me?”

“Who else?”

“No, I mean, you don’t want to—“ he coughed. “I mean, you don’t want to be the one who,” he paused, obviously struggling for the term, “does the doing?”

Brian was tempted to laugh. Instead, he smiled and bent to kiss those lips. “Wouldn’t mind that,” he admitted. “But I think our first time you should be the one doing.” He grinned on the word.

“Why?” Patrick sounded genuinely curious. 

“Honestly?” At the nod, Brian admitted, “because I’ve longed to feel this gorgeous bit of you inside me.” He tugged on Patrick’s cock, which throbbed. “And,” he also confessed, “if I were in you I think I would come embarrassingly quickly in that sweet, sexy arse of yours.”

Patrick’s cheeks had turned fire engine red. 

He continued. “Also, I have been doing some research and have, um,” he paused and swallowed, “been practicing.”

Patrick blinked. Twice. “What?”

Brian shrugged, self-consciously. He let out a noise as he was suddenly tumbled over and on his back. He was snogged within an inch of his life, gasping for breath when Patrick pulled away at last. “Wow!”

“I want that,” Patrick admitted. “Want you.”

“Do you?” He was a little unsure.

“Of course I do! I didn’t know how to bring it up.”

So, they had both wanted to take their relationship to the next level but hadn’t known how to talk to each other about it. He reached up and brought Patrick’s face down, kissing him again. “If you didn’t want it, I would be okay with that.”

“That’s very sweet, Brian. But a bit of a moot point now, yes?”

He grinned. “Yeah.”

“How do we go about this?” Patrick asked. 

Brian took a deep breath. “The first thing is foreplay. Lots and lots of foreplay.”

“I think we’ve got that covered. But if you want more,” Patrick said, cutting himself off as he bent his head and began to kiss his way across Brian’s chest. He moved one hand down and cupped a buttock, giving it a gentle squeeze, something Brian loved. The hand moved around and stroked the sensitive inside of his thigh. “Should I suck you off first?” He asked, lifting his mouth from skin. 

Brian squeezed his eyes shut in order to stave off his rising orgasm. 

“Brian?”

Without opening his eyes, he pulled Patrick to him and held him tight. “You absolute darling of a man,” he whispered in his ear. “You almost set me off right then.”

“Really?” It came out very high pitched in Patrick’s surprise. 

“Really.” He ran his hands down Patrick’s long back. His love’s kiss-reddened lips were right there and he couldn’t help but lean in and lick at them. Patrick let out a tiny mewling sound that went straight to Brian’s cock. “God, Patrick, want you. Want you in me so bad.”

A loud exhale.

“Can’t imagine the lovely sounds you’ll make as you take me.”

“Make love to you,” came the correction.

“Of course.” Brian smiled and kissed him again. “Wait, I need to get up.”

“Why?” Patrick demanded then looked contrite. “Do you have a cramp?”

“No,” he giggled. “I need to get something from my suitcase. I didn’t want to put it in the nightstand, just in case.” He wiggled out from under Patrick and padded, naked, over. He rummaged in a pocket and pulled out something. He came back and held out his hand. “I, er, asked and they said this was good.”

Patrick was so bright red he went perfectly with the green décor at Christmas. “Really?” He squeaked.

“Yes.” He popped the cap of the tube of lube. “Oh! The condom!” He chastised himself and began to get back off the bed. A hand stopped him. 

“Do we really need that?”

Brian looked at him, shocked. “Patrick?”

“You,” he took a deep breath, “you know I’m a virgin.”

“I’m not,” he reminded Patrick.

“I know. But I trust you.”

“Oh, darling,” he breathed out and bent down, kissing his sweet lips. “I’ve only had sex a few times and I made sure to use protection each time.” He didn’t add that they had all been women and he had used it to make sure they didn’t get pregnant. 

“Then we’ll be fine. Please, Brian,” Patrick’s voice was low and throaty. “I don’t want anything between us for this first time.”

That punched Brian in the gut. He bent and snogged the hell out of his boyfriend. As he pulled back, he nodded, held out the lube. “Did you want to…?”

Patrick stated at him for a long moment, eyes going wide. “You, you want me--?”

“If you want to. Or I can do it for myself.” He’d tried it a few times in the past few weeks. He grinned as Patrick’s cock throbbed. “Like that idea? Watching me get myself ready for you?”

“Oh God!”

Brian pulled the tube back and squeezed some out. He rubbed his fingers together, saying “to warm it up,” when he saw Patrick’s questioning look. He reached back and used one hand to part his cheeks. A finger slipped inside and he let out a groan. 

“Brian,” Patrick moaned from below him, one hand gripping his hip so tightly it was sure to leave marks. The other snuck around and held the other cheek back for him. 

“Thank you, love,” Brian said, grateful. He pushed the finger in and slowly withdrew it. Repeating the action a few times, he withdrew completely. He saw Patrick watching him expectantly and asked, “can you get the other one as well?”

Patrick nodded and brought his hand off the hip and back around. 

Brian murmured his thanks and drizzled more lube onto his fingers, working two in now. He worked them in and out, feeling his cock get achingly hard. Then he scissored them and moaned a little. 

“You’re stunning,” Patrick told him, his own erection leaking. “It doesn’t hurt?” He added a moment later. 

“No. You just have to go slow and careful, at least at first.” He had found the hot spot that he’d been told to look for and brushed his fingers over it. Brian had only found it once before and was pleased to have done so again. He was leaking now, his hips moving a bit. He pulled his digits free and briefly contemplated just going for it. But he knew it was better to be fully prepped. So he grabbed the lube to dribble more on. 

Only to have his wrist caught. Eyes met. 

“I…may I?” Patrick gestured. 

Brian was surprised then felt a flush of pleasure. “You sure?”

“Yes.”

He handed the lube over. 

Patrick coated his fingers. “You were at three?”

“Yes, but why don’t you go for two to get used to it?”

Nodding, his boyfriend did so, reaching back and pressing gently against the tight ring. “You’ll tell me if I hurt you?”

“Yes, love. It’s all right.” He bent forward slightly and smiled. “Put your fingers in me, Patrick.”

Blushing, Patrick did just that. He gasped aloud as he did so. “So hot!”

“Mmmm,” was all Brian could get out. Patrick’s fingers felt entirely different from his own—obviously. They seemed to reach deeper inside. He was instantly in love with the feel. “Oh, love,” he moaned, “yes.”

“Brian, my God, Brian.” Patrick sounded as if he were coming apart. 

Brian opened his eyes and looked down, saw such wonder and passion that he had to bend—feeling like a contortionist as he did so—to kiss him. He felt the fingers threaten to slip free and straightened back up, pushing back against them. He let out a low moan, at the same time Patrick did as well. He bit down on his lower lip and threw his head back, throat working as he pumped himself up and down on those slender fingers. His cock was hard as a rock and leaking more than ever. He felt Patrick’s hard flesh and gasped out, “three.”

Patrick knew what that meant and withdrew his fingers, wiping them fastidiously on his pants that he grabbed from the floor. Then he dribbled more lube and moved his hand back. 

Letting out a slow breath, Brian willed himself not to tense up. He knew that was not a good idea. He felt his eyes flutter as the three fingers breached him. When the middle one touched something inside him that he had only found once himself, he let out a shout. 

Patrick almost withdrew his digits, hissing as Brian clamped down on them to stop him. “Brian, did I hurt you?”

“No, no, didn’t hurt, absolutely not, felt good, felt so good,” he babbled. “Do it again, please. Again!” He gasped as the fingers moved once more. “Ooooo, Patrick, yes!”

“I take it that was good?”

“So good,” he moaned, bending over in a pretzel like motion to kiss his bed partner. “Can’t wait to feel your cock inside me, hitting there.”

Patrick let out a gasp against his lips and Brian smiled. Fingers finally slid free and he heard the slickening against skin. His eyes were closed as he both savored the anticipation and tried to keep from coming right then and there just from the thought of having Patrick inside him. 

“Brian? Please open your eyes.”

How could he turn down such a sweetly voiced request? He lifted his lashes and looked down at Patrick. 

“Do you want to do it like this? Or, er, on your back?”

“Probably better to start off like this,” he admitted.

“Okay.” Patrick took a deep breath. “Are you ready? Are you sure?”

Brian brought the palms of his hands to his lover’s face, holding there. “I’m sure. I love you.”

“I love you too,” Patrick immediately said back, and then used one hand to align himself. 

As Brian felt the tip of Patrick’s cock touch his hole, he was surprised that—instead of tensing—he completely relaxed. This was the man he loved, that he trusted. That he wanted to share his body with. He felt Patrick sliding into him. He let out a loud gasp and made sure to also say “yes”, to let the other man know he was all right. 

That hot prick glided smoothly inside him by degrees until it was fully in him. He opened eyes he hadn’t realized he’d closed again and looked down. 

Patrick Watts looked absolutely rapt and wondrous as he stared up. Hair a mess, lips plump from kissing, a sheen of sweat on his skin, he’d never looked more beautiful. Brian felt a huge surge of love, affection and desire swamp him all at once and rolled them over, hearing a small surprised noise. Then he drew Patrick down to him, nuzzling his neck and face, pressing sweet little kisses everywhere. The words ‘I love you’ didn’t seem enough so he tried to let his body speak for him, let it be more eloquent.

This new position also pressed Patrick deeper inside him, or at least it felt like it. His toes curled as the hot flesh seemed to pierce his body. He lifted his hips and wrapped his legs around the man on top of him. His own cock, neglected but hard as steel, was now pressed between them. He thought about maneuvering a hand down but opted not to as Patrick gave a rather tentative thrust. Brian wrapped his arms around his love and pulled his head down to whisper in his ear. 

“Fuck me.”

Patrick’s hips snapped and he half pulled away, to meet Brian’s eyes, who looked back and nodded, licking his lips in anticipation. “No,” Patrick said softly, “but I will make love to you, Brian.”

Before he had a chance to respond, Patrick began thrusting. Brian let out a needy wail and lifted his hips to meet each one. Suddenly the angle changed and he felt that pleasure spot within him being reached. His cock leaked and he started panting in Patrick’s ear. The rhythm built slowly, like a crescendo in music. Louder and stronger, until all that could be heard was the sound. Awash in passion, in love, in each other, Brian met Patrick’s eyes again and let him know he was ready. 

Their mouths met as they kissed, then Patrick let go of his lips as he thrust back in hard. Brian clenched around him and that was it, he felt the hot liquid filling him, like molten gold. He orgasmed just from that alone, spurting against his own and Patrick’s bodies. They shuddered as their climaxes took them, and through the aftershocks. 

Finally the weight of Patrick upon him got Brian to cough a bit and faintly say, “bit heavy?”

Patrick blinked at him, lazily, then seemed to get it. “Oh!” He began to pull out, but stopped when Brian tightened his legs around him. 

“Didn’t say for you to do that. Just maybe move to our sides. Not ready for you to leave me yet.”

“I’ll never leave you.” Patrick replied immediately, then blushed faintly. Probably would have been furiously if all his blood hadn’t recently been elsewhere. “I mean, obviously, in regard to this, I will have to. I meant—“

Brian had rolled them onto their sides and now kissed his love, brushing sweaty hair back from a damp forehead. “Happy Christmas, Patrick,” he said.

He got a beaming smile back. “Happy Christmas, Brian. Best one of my entire life, actually.”


	12. Chapter 12

“Me too,” Brian said back. They lay there, until Brian was finally ready to let Patrick slip free, though he made a soft noise of unhappiness when it did happen. He was drowsing when Patrick abruptly sat up.

“Bugger!”

“What?” He shook himself free from the drowsiness that had been overtaking him. 

“We were going to have dessert, remember?” He frowned. “And we never did the dishes.”

Brian smiled, pulling his handsome lover back down. “I already had a much sweeter dessert. And the dishes will wait, Patrick.”

The other man frowned a bit but lay back down, then popped right back up again. “I should get us washed up.”

Smiling indulgently, Brian turned flat on his back and stretched. “If you like.”

Patrick had been getting out of bed but now turned and saw the satisfied look on Brian’s face. He shook his head and smiled. “You do tempt me so.”

Brian’s smile got wider. “Do I?”

Patrick bent and kissed him sweetly but would not be deterred, returning from the bathroom with a warm, wet washcloth. 

“Where’s yours? Or are we to share?”

“I washed up in the lav. This one is for you. Lie still.” 

He didn’t. He wriggled and moved as Patrick’s hands cleaned up. Then he grabbed the free hand and pulled, grinning at the squeak that elicited. He clambered over his newly cleaned love and pressed a sweet kiss to his lips. “Hello.”

“Hello,” Patrick smiled back then shook his head in fond exasperation. “If you’ve this much energy, we should go do the dishes.”

“Nope. However-“ he got up and moved to the door, turning and putting his hand out. “Stay!” He commanded to get Patrick to stop getting up. He wandered, naked, out and then back again several minutes later. One plate in each hand. 

“You found the pudding!”

“I did.” The dessert had been out and looked delicious. He said so. And watched Patrick blush at the praise. “Was a bit surprised. Not cupcakes?”

“Pudding is more Christmas spirited.”

“Ah.” He got back on the bed, scooting close and handing a plate over. He picked up his spoon and dug in. He moaned a little as the taste filled his mouth. 

“You like it?”

“It’s great,” he said, after swallowing. 

“Really?”

“Yes. Though not as tasty as you.” He watched that blush grow all over Patrick. He eyed his pudding speculatively. “Hmmm.”

“Later,” Patrick said firmly, but with a smile, knowing the bent of his thoughts. 

“Yes?”

“Yes. You can eat pudding off me tomorrow.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Brian said, putting another spoonful in his mouth. 

They finished their food in relative silence, not uncomfortable in the least. When it was done, Patrick got up to take their plates. He had donned a dressing gown when he’d gone to get the washcloths, despite no one else being around and now he belted it. 

“You’re going to go do the dishes, aren’t you.” It was a statement, not a question. 

Ducking his head slightly, body folding a bit, Patrick stammered, “I—well, I—“

Brian got up out of bed and crossed to him. “You. Are. Adorable.” He kissed him hard, then went back to find his own dressing gown, slipping it on. “Right then. You wash, I’ll dry?”

“Really? You’ll help?”

“Course. The sooner done, the sooner we can get back in bed.” He leered a bit. 

Patrick laughed, a bit helplessly. He led the way out. 

Brian watched Patrick stack dishes and run water, eyes roaming over that fit form. He thought back and was amazed that he had just had that man inside him. He felt his cock begin to stir but that was all. He had come too hard earlier for it to rise again this soon. 

Still, Patrick noticed, glancing down as he began to put dishes in the water. His eyes widened in surprise and flicked back up. “Brian?”

“You are just so incredibly sexy,” he said, stepping close and nuzzling against his love’s neck. “Can’t believe you’re mine. Can’t believe we just made love.”

Patrick tilted his head, exposing his throat further, letting out a happy sigh. “I could say the same.”

“Hmmm. Let’s finish these and go back to bed, love.” He used his will power to pull away and rolled up his sleeves. They worked steadily and quickly. Soon they had all the dishes done and set out for drying. Patrick wiped down the counters as Brian went out and shut the tree lights off. Patrick joined him and they made their way back to the green bedroom. Removing their dressing gowns, once again nude, they climbed back into the bed together. 

Brian wrapped himself around Patrick’s long form, then assumed his usual body placement. Pushing his fingers into that hair, he let out a contented sigh. “You were right. Best Christmas I’ve ever had.”

Patrick nudged up against his hand and made a happy noise in the back of his throat. “Yes,” he agreed. “Thanks to you.”

“And you, Patrick dear.” He dropped a kiss to his head and felt his eyes flutter shut. “Love you,” he said sleepily. 

“Love you too,” came the drowsy reply. 

Brian awoke the next morning to the sound of cursing. He sat up, looking around, finding Patrick nowhere nearby. He started to get out of bed and winced, feeling soreness and pulling of muscles he’d never felt before. He felt his face heat as he realized it was from their lovemaking last night. He was standing by the bed, what he knew must be a soppy grin on his face, when Patrick entered the room. He was backing in, still cursing under his breath. He turned. 

“Bugger this toast, getting all burnt and—“ He stopped abruptly as he saw Brian. “Oh. You’re up.”

“Really, you are spoiling me,” Brian replied, crossing the room a bit stiffly. 

Patrick immediately picked up on it. He set the tray aside without a thought. “Brian? Are you hurt?”

“What? No. Not really.”

“Not really?!” Patrick was becoming alarmed. “Oh God!”

“Patrick,” he came forward and took both of the man’s hands. “It’s all right. I’m just a bit…sore.”

“Sore? From what?” Then the light dawned. “Oh! Oh, Brian, I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’m not.”

“But I didn’t think it was supposed to hurt!” Patrick all but wailed. 

“It doesn’t, really. It’s like, when you’ve been doing exercises and there’s a burn to your muscles because you haven’t used them in a while?” Brian tried to explain. 

Patrick began to protest then immediately switched modes. “Back to bed,” he ordered. 

Brian sighed. “I’m not an invalid or a patient. I don’t need to be coddled or bed-ridden, love.”

Patrick had that stubborn look on his face. “Instead, you’d rather be up and aching?”

He’d had enough of this nonsense. He pulled Patrick to him. His love had dressed in pajamas and the feel of that against his naked body produced a reaction. He pushed that down. He needed to focus. “Patrick, I told you I didn’t regret anything from last night. I meant it. I still do. It was beautiful and wonderful and perfect. You took such good care of me, drove me to such heights, that I still feel as if I’m flying.” He pulled that beloved face down to his, eyes meeting. “If a little soreness was my price to pay to feel this way, I gladly accept it. And I don’t expect it the next time.”

“You…?” Patrick hesitated, looking fearful. “You want to? Again?”

“Yes, of course. Oh my love,” he said, eyes soft, “why wouldn’t I want that with you again?”

“But if I hurt you—“

“You didn’t. Not really. And that was just the first time. Unless,” he suddenly asked, growing hesitant, “you don’t want to again?” Unsure, he started to babble. “Because if you don’t, if I’m not a good lay, as they call it, then we can go back to what we were doing before. That was wonderful too and—“ He was abruptly kissed, lips cutting off his words. 

“I love everything we do together, both in and out of bed. Even stupid mundane little things, such as laundry or dishes.” Patrick settled one big hand over Brian’s heart. “I definitely want to keep doing ‘things’,” one could practically hear the air quotes, “with you. But not if it’s going to hurt you.”

“It didn’t. Not really. Now that I’ve used, er, those muscles, I don’t think it will next time.” He looked up. “Will there be a next time?”

“I’d like there to be,” Patrick answered, smiling shyly. 

“Then there will be.” It was emphatic. 

“In the meantime,” Patrick said, unexpectedly bending and picking Brian up-- bridal style—ignoring the squawk this produced, “back to bed with you.”

“I told you—“

“For breakfast,” Patrick went on. “Which is now cold so I’ll have to run and reheat it.” He put Brian down in the bed. 

“You’ll join me?” 

“Yes. Won’t be a tick.” He turned, grabbed the tray, and left the room. Brian snuggled down under the covers, licking his lips. Partly in anticipation of the meal, partly for other reasons. 

When Patrick returned shortly, he the food was piping hot, as was the tea. He set the tray down carefully, then started to climb into bed himself. 

“Ah!”

Patrick stopped, looking puzzled. “Did I forget something?”

“Yes. To remove your clothes.” Brian grinned. “If I’m to stay in bed and eat breakfast naked, you will too. Please?” He added. 

Blushing, Patrick looked at him to see if he was serious. When he saw Brian was, he stood and began to shed his pajamas. Once nude again, he slid in under the covers, scooting close. They shared all that was on the tray, setting it aside when they were done. It wasn’t much, after their big meal the day before. 

“What shall we do for Boxing Day?” Patrick asked.

“I rather like this,” Brian said, cheekily, gesturing. “Spend the day after Christmas naked in bed with my gorgeous lover? What could be better?”

Patrick’s cheeks turned pink. “Are you sure?”

“Mmm-hmmm,” he hummed, pressing a kiss to the top of those curls. He sighed, contentedly. A moment later he yawned. “Guess I’m still tired. You wore me out.”

Shooting a concerned look upwards, Patrick tried to wiggle free. He was held in place by Brian’s deceivingly strong arms. 

“Think a nap might be in order.” He loosened his arms. “Will you stay until I fall asleep?” He tried not to make it sound too needy. 

“If you like.”

“I do.” He rubbed his hand over bare flesh. “Need my boyfriend to keep me warm.”

“I believe that is what the covers are for. Not to mention the furnace?” Patrick sounded amused. 

“Rather have you.” His voice was getting sleepy. His eyes closed and he felt Patrick press a soft kiss to the hollow of his throat. “Mmm. Love you.”

“I love you, too.” 

The next few days passed in a blur of sex, sleep and affection. They did eventually make it to town, to buy supplies and spend Christmas cash. Swain drove them to and from, barely uttering a word. After that trip they all but resolved not to leave the privacy of their hideaway for the remainder of the holiday. It had been too hard to give up their newfound closeness, to pretend for the outside world. When they had returned, they had flown into each other’s arms, barely making it to the sofa before they had sex. 

They had not done any penetrative acts, either on the other, since Christmas Day. Brian wasn’t worried. He was happy with what they were doing. The last day of the year arrived and they untangled from each other’s arms, as always. Brian gave one last push of his fingers through Patrick’s lush hair and was rewarded with a purr. He couldn’t help it; he leaned down and kissed him sweetly. “My big pussy cat,” he teased. 

“Careful. Cats have claws.”

“So they do. But you would never hurt me,” he said with surety. 

“Never,” Patrick agreed. They got up, having decided to both arise for breakfast this day. Patrick, as ever, cooked. Brian watched him, marveling at the man’s skill. They ate in the kitchen, then went to read in the living room. They listened to music as well, for a time. It was windy and cold outside and there was a fire in the fireplace to keep them warm. Brian sat on the couch with his feet in Patrick’s lap. After lunch, they decided to take short naps, in order to be clear headed for midnight. Patrick guided Brian’s head to his lap this time.

“Are you sure, love?”

“Yes.”

So it came to pass that an hour and a half later, Brian woke to find Patrick with body lolling to the side, curling slightly around the arm of the sofa. He pulled himself up, wiping sleep from his eyes, and smiled. 

“Patrick?” He shook a shoulder gently. “Wake up.”

“No.” It was said with a hint of a giggle.

“But I’m naked.”

“What?” Patrick’s eyes shot open as he half sat up. “Oh, dirty pool,” he said, disappointed to find it wasn’t true. 

“What would you have done if I _had_ been naked?” Brian asked, curious. 

Patrick was stretching. Now he smiled as he brought his arms down. “I’m sure I would have thought of something.”

Brian grinned back. “I’m sure you would have as well.” They just sat there, soppy grins on their faces, before collapsing into giggles. They finally got up and found things to do for the rest of the day. As nighttime closed in, they ate a light dinner, then cuddled on the couch watching the countdowns around the world. Brian had already pulled the bottle of champagne from under the tree. Patrick had assured him that his parents would not care if they never received it. 

At approximately 11:30, Patrick suddenly stood. “Grab the glasses and the bottle.” 

Puzzled, Brian did it, then took his love’s extended hand. He let himself be led, upstairs until they came to a small door. Patrick opened it. There was another small, shorter staircase here. The attic, he knew, having been up here to try to find the photo album. “You want to celebrate the new year in the attic?”

“This is the highest point in the house. I realized we might be able to see the fireworks from the top most window.” Looking uncertain, he added, “we can go back down if you like.”

“No, it’s all right.” It wasn’t the romantic setting he’d been hoping for. On the other hand, fireworks. He mentioned something about them.

Patrick apologized. “I didn’t think about them because I’m not usually here over the holiday. They’re done about 2 towns away but they’re so bright you often can see them from here.”

Brian understood that Patrick meant from that room. He crossed to him. “How often did you watch them?”

“Only twice.” Patrick smiled ruefully. “Once, I had managed to get away from my parents and all the dreadful relatives. The second time, I had run away in a temper. Come up here.”

Brian shook his head. “My poor love.”

Patrick’s face dawned in realization. “This will be the first time I see them when I with someone. And happy.”

Overcome with emotion, Brian pulled him close and kissed him. “Right enough,” he said, thickly. He secretly determined to make this a night to remember. He glanced at his watch. 

“Ah! One moment.” Patrick disappeared quickly, steps clattering. Brian looked around while he was gone, looking out the window that had been indicated for the best view. He heard Patrick coming back and turned. 

The man was holding a transistor radio. “So we can hear the countdown and not have to keep our eyes on our watches.”

“Clever darling,” Brian said, kissing his cheek as Patrick tuned it. Soon the voice of BBC radio came across, telling them they had 10 minutes. Patrick decided to go ahead and open the champagne, doing so expertly. He poured them each a glass. 

“Before this year comes to an end, a toast, if I may?”

Brian nodded. 

“To new beginnings, in all senses of the word. When this year began things were so different for me. I hadn’t realized how alone I really was. Then I found a friend. I was grateful for that. Eventually, said friend became more and lo, we fell in love. I hardly dare dream it was real.” Patrick’s long fingers, from his free hand, brushed against Brian’s cheek. “But real it is. And I thank all that is Holy for it every single day. For you, Brian. I love you so, so much. Thank you for this year.”

Brian waited but it seemed Patrick was done. “My turn?” He asked, voice clogged with tears. 

Patrick nodded. 

“You spoke of being lonely. That’s how I started this year, too. Then a foe became a friend, who became a lover. I had never even thought of becoming boyfriends with a man before but you, my dear Patrick, swept me off my feet. With your sweaters and your cupcakes and your knowledge and your gorgeous features. You turned my world upside down, first when we were enemies then again when we became lovers. One way or another, you’ve been such a big part of my life. I can only hope you will continue to be in this coming year.”

Patrick burst out, “of course!” Then looked abashed for interrupting. 

Brian just smiled. “You thank me for this year. I have to say thank you for coming to find me when that paper fetched up against your leg, to return it. Thank you for not giving me the cold shoulder and brushing me off when I showed up to take you to dinner. Thank you kissing me, for loving me, for letting me love you. For going as slow or as fast as I needed. I love you, Patrick Watts. That one phrase sums up this past year for me. Brian Jackson loves Patrick Watts.”

“And Patrick Watts loves Brian Jackson,” Patrick said, tears spilling from his eyes. 

They had both been lost in their own world but were brought back to this one by the radio announcer chanting numbers. 

“10, 9, 8…”

They both raised their glasses, clinking them together and raising them as the count hit “1”. They drank, then turned as one to the window. Luckily, it was fairly large so they could both stand there and look out, seeing a burst of fireworks appear in the distance. 

Patrick started as Brian stepped in front of him, then drew his taller lover’s arms around him, wrapping them tight. Brian leaned back against that well defined chest, trusting in the other man not to let him fall. He turned his head, opening his mouth to make a joke about a New Year’s Kiss. 

But Patrick was already bending, Brian lifting his head to meet the kiss. It was sweet with a hint of hunger behind it. He knew that soon they would go to bed and find joy there, as well as passion. But for now he was content to be wrapped in this man’s arms, pondering the changes of his life and wondering what this new year would bring. 

Patrick leaned down and whispered in his ear, “fingers on buzzers”. 

Brian smiled. He already knew the answer. 

 

End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know if I need to change/add to the tags

**Author's Note:**

> This has not been Britpicked. I have tried to stay true to the actors 'voices' from the film but an Americanism or two might have slipped in. Apologies, if so.


End file.
